


Celestial

by Elucubrations



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Detectives, M/M, Mystery, Organized Crime, Police, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:31:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucubrations/pseuds/Elucubrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt was just your average teenage hacker before an angel decided to shove its pitchfork in and turn his Little Big Planet upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stereotypes

**Author's Note:**

> From my page at fanfiction.net! https://www.fanfiction.net/~tiichan17

With a final click of a button, Matt activated the destructive virus that would demolish the entire system of the company he'd been paid to annihilate.

Sitting back in his chair and cracking his knuckles, he congratulated himself on a job well done. The virus would likely be on the news next morning, and his payment would be delivered long before.

Hacking, or cracking, depending on what his various employers wanted, was Matt's hobby, as well as his job. He viewed the complex security systems he was put up against as challenges, something to pass the time. Why not earn some money while he was at it? He'd started breaking into computers at twelve, and got his first paid job at fourteen. Now, he was eighteen, very nearly nineteen, and still cracking was his main (only) source of income.

As job offers were few and far between, albeit well-paid, Matt didn't exactly live in the lap of luxury. His crummy apartment had four rooms: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and his 'Tech Lair', as he called it. It was the latter which he was in now, deciding what to spend his soon-to-be acquired cash on.

He already had all the technology he needed to break into the most secure systems in the world, he had more gaming systems than he could be bothered to count, and even more games. The TV sort-of worked, but Matt didn't watch it much anyway. He had food and clothes. What else was there to spend it on? Apart from the rent, which Matt avoided 'til the very last minute anyway.

Pushing his orange-lensed goggle up and away from his eyes, Matt huffed vertically, ruffling his fringe. Having excess money was not something he was used to, and to be frank, he didn't really like it, strange guy that he was. Life just wasn't any fun without having to scavenge for everything.

Although, Matt supposed he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He hadn't actually _got_ the cash yet, and though he assumed he would, anything could happen in the quarter of an hour it took for him to pick up his money.

Matt's residence was kept a secret from everyone, for obvious reasons, but he knew that most would be surprised at the proximity of his flat and his allotted meeting spot for payments. It was the best disguise: hiding in plain view.

Sighing, Matt stood, stretched his tired muscles, and readjusted his goggles to hide his eyes. It was best to keep as anonymous as possible, and anyhow, wearing them was so much of a habit he sometimes caught himself believing the world was naturally dyed various shades of orange.

Grabbing a nondescript bag from the corner, Matt strolled out into the street, making sure to lock the door behind him. He wasn't in a respectable area, to say the least. Hunching his shoulders to keep warm, Matt buried his nose in the fluffy lining of his jacket. Winter was setting in with a vengeance; he'd have to start shelling out for heating soon.

Sniffing irritably and cursing the cold virus, Matt strode hastily to the assigned corner where he was to get his hands on his earnings.

As expected, there was a leery-looking bloke in shades leaning against the wall.

Humming the Men in Black theme tune in his head, Matt sauntered along to meet him.

The man glanced up. "You the hacker?" he asked.

"Yup." Matt wasn't a man of many words.

"Here," the Man in Black shoved a sizeable envelope into Matt's gloved hands.

Not taking any chances, Matt opened it up and started counting.

"It's all there," the man assured him, looking annoyed, but not surprised.

The man was telling the truth, Matt discovered, and he put the bundles of notes away again. "Cheers," he said, turning away while stuffing the envelope into his bag and setting off down the street again. Keeping it brief was the key to successful criminality.

Matt turned down a road he didn't normally venture into. He didn't want anyone following him and finding out where he lived. He had heard the thug turn and head off in the opposite direction, but one couldn't be too careful.

It had been a mere forty seconds before Matt decided going down this particular road had been a mistake. It was derelict (even more so than the rest of the suburb), and there was a frightening amount of smashed glass, graffiti and puddles of dubious liquids.

Carefully weaving around such a puddle, Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, where he kept his flick-knife, and kept his head even lower than normal. This was gang territory, he could smell it. And no one trespassed on gang territory unless they were either retarded or possessing of a death wish. Matt wasn't in the suicidal category.

Suddenly, a door opened to the building Matt was walking by. Cursing his god-awful luck, Matt wheeled around to face whatever murderer was trying to kill him, fumbling with his knife. True to character, he dropped it.

Before he could swear and make up a way to wheedle himself out of this one, Matt was surprised to see a body being shoved out of the doorway. The person staggered backwards, tripped over a step and tumbled down into the street. Matt reached out to catch them by instinct...

And into his arms fell the most beautiful angel he'd ever seen.

A black, fur-trimmed hood had fallen away to reveal flaxen hair and ice-blue eyes, the huge burn on the face doing nothing to disguise the sheer beauty of the creature Matt was holding.

The door slammed shut.

So captivated was he by the celestial being, Matt didn't notice the blood soaking through his own shirt from the gunshot wound in the angel's shoulder. The creature brought it to his attention though, by groaning and clutching at the injury. Matt gasped as he finally saw the wound, and the sprite went limp in his arms.

Matt was still for a few seconds before his brain finally started working again, right after his lungs. He hurriedly checked for vital signs, and, finding them, sighed with relief and applied pressure to the bullet wound. He then deliberated on what to do next.

If he left this person here, they would die.

If he drove them to hospital, there would be questions that his legality (or lack of) really wouldn't be able to stand.

And if he tried to treat the injury himself, he couldn't guarantee the person's survival.

Coming to a conclusion and realising he'd never really had a choice in the matter, Matt heaved a deep breath and gathered the unconscious being in his arms. He then set off for his apartment by the quickest route there was, possible stalkers be damned.

Angels were really damn heavy.

Matt stumbled down the dark alleyways, breathing heavily with exertion. It was seven pm, and, as a result of the season, already pitch black. He could feel the gentle expansion and contraction of the angel's chest from where it was clutched against Matt's own, and he took comfort in the fact that it was still alive.

Reaching his front door at last, Matt encountered a dilemma. The door was locked, and the key was in his back pocket, which made it unattainable with his current load.

Swearing colourfully, Matt shifted the body so it was lying over his shoulder and fished around for his keys. Finding them, he unlocked the door and rushed inside, kicking it shut behind him.

He set the person gently down on his bed, making a mental note to buy clean sheets when he was done. He then ran into the bathroom to look for antiseptic and bandages.

After gathering the necessary equipment, he hurried back and began to carefully remove the upper layers of clothing from the person. Successfully removing the jacket, Matt eyed the leather vest underneath with trepidation. He really had no idea whether his patient was male or female; the hair and features screamed female, but the lack of figure begged to differ.

Matt shrugged. Either way, he couldn't let this person bleed to death just because he was shy. Unzipping the vest, he noted with brief surprise that they were, in fact, male and the bullet wound wasn't actually so bad. It had only nicked the shoulder, leaving a nasty, but not life-threatening gash.

Feeling relieved that he wouldn't need to sew anything, Matt cleaned the wound thoroughly and bandaged it up tightly, hopefully stopping excess blood flow. He then gazed at the soiled sheets in speculation, before shrugging and slipping a towel underneath the stranger so he wouldn't wake up in a pool of his own blood. Even Matt was sensitive enough to know that would probably be distressing.

He cleaned the man's torso as best he could, forgoing his back, as he didn't want to move the injured person's shoulder more than absolutely necessary. He then covered his unexpected guest with a duvet and left the room to find some well-earned coffee.

Now all that was left to do was to wait for this beautiful stranger to wake up.


	2. Déjà Vu

The next morning, Matt woke up on the couch extremely disorientated. It took a couple of seconds before he could remember why he was there.

Then, of course, he had to force himself to get up at only nine o'clock in the morning because there was a patient in his actual bed who needed his bandages changed. Life was hard.

Staggering into his bedroom only half-lucid, Matt collapsed on the chair he'd placed next to bed the night before. He then slapped himself sharply to wake himself up.

Only then did he trust himself to look at the mattress in front of him, upon which his mysterious guest was lying. He was almost anxious that they wouldn't look as spectacular as he'd thought them to be at first.

His fears were unfounded.

Yet again, he embarrassingly found himself short of breath (that, or he just forgot to breathe) at the sight of the man's face. He was completely gorgeous, for lack of a better word – though Matt was sure even the most stupendous expression wouldn't cut it either.

Slapping his face again to snap himself out of his stunned state, Matt started to unwrap his patient's bandages.

The oh-so-manly squeak he let out when blue eyes snapped open and a strong hand trapped his wrist in an iron grip almost made Matt want to hit himself again.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man asked, fury and caution apparent in his frigid glare.

His voice sounded incredible too, Matt noted, even when it was scaring the redhead to the point of pissing himself.

Matt squeaked yet again, to his mortification, before he cleared his throat and spoke fairly normally, "I was trying to treat your wound. It's not good to leave the same bandages on for ages."

The blond stared at him like he was a retard. "I know that, idiot. What I meant was: who are you, why am I here, where _is_ here, and why are you bandaging up my own damn shot wound?"

"Uh..." was Matt's intelligent answer. He'd already forgotten all the questions.

The blond angel (though taking into account recent observations, demon was a more accurate description) crushed his wrist tighter. Matt suddenly remembered the questions.

"Uh, um, I saw you get kicked onto the street and I saw your injury and, uh, I thought I'd take you to my place to fix it cos otherwise you'd die cos I can't take you to hospital cos, um, well, my job isn't entirely legal and it doesn't look like yours is either but no offence or anything, that's just what I thought and, er, I – I bandaged you up, obviously, and you're at my place, which is – uh, well, it's kinda secret so I probably shouldn't tell you exactly where it is and...and I'm Matt." Matt finally realised he was rambling and shut up.

The guy was looking at him like he was imploring whatever God was up there to please, _please_ get him away from this scary insane person.

"...Right," he finally acknowledged.

Matt mentally slapped himself, as he couldn't do it properly without looking like he needed help. He probably _should_ get help, actually, for all this self-harm. At least he wasn't shooting himself through the foot every time he did something wrong. Yet. Why did this person make him feel so mentally challenged all the time?

After a few minutes, Matt decided the silence was much too awkward to continue existing. "So..." he said, inwardly cursing himself for not thinking what to say before he started, "Um...what's your name, then?"

There was the you're-such-a-moron look again.

Matt waited.

The blond raised a disparaging eyebrow.

Matt finally got the hint. "You know what? Never mind!" The guy was obviously a gang member. He wasn't going to go around giving his name to whichever random stalker asked.

Matt had to actually clench his fists to stop his further abusing his already bright red cheek when he remembered he himself should really have the same maxim.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the blond said, finally releasing Matt's wrist. The redhead immediately checked for breakages.

The dazzling-but-demonic being hoisted himself into a sitting position with his good arm. "I'll be going, then," he announced. "Now," he emphasised when Matt made to protest.

"But your shoulder –"

"Piss off, I'll be fine. I take care of things like this every other day," the stranger told him, belying his own 'reassurance' by wincing when he tried to don his ridiculous leather vest again.

Matt abruptly shoved at his chest, forcing him to lie down again. "I can't let you leave until you're wound's at least half healed," he insisted.

The blond produced a gun out of nowhere (which may have been the front of his pants, but Matt definitely hadn't been looking) and pressed it against Matt's temple. "I think you can," he said decisively, struggling to sit up again. Luckily for Matt, the invalid's shoulder severely impaired his upper body strength.

Though he was more than terrified by the firearm, Matt stubbornly held on to his vow. "No. Sorry, I just can't let you out like this with a clear conscience."

"I don't give a fuck about your conscience, let me go!" the man yelled, drawing the gun back for a split second before cracking the handle violently across Matt's face.

Matt staggered back, clutching his jaw and fighting the tears smarting in his eyes.

His former prisoner jumped up and ran out without another word, clutching his shoulder.

He never looked back once.

Matt stayed curled up on his ratty old carpet until he heard his front door slam. Only then did he relax, unfurling his taunt body and rolling to press his forehead against the wall.

He'd been abused and left behind.

Again.

With a derisive snort, Matt remembered the fact that only added insult to injury.

The blond knew where he bloody lived now. Brilliant.

* * *

To be truthful, Matt had expected the sting of rejection and humiliation to fade away fairly quickly, long before the pain of his actual damage had healed.

However, as always, it seemed the angelic-looking bastard was different. Hell, he'd barely even known the guy; it shouldn't have hurt this much that he'd just up and left, especially after so many days. After all, it had happened plenty of times before.

Again, though: it was different this time.

Matt listlessly poked at his bowl of instant noodles. They were his favourite flavour (chicken), but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to eat more than a few mouthfuls.

Inwardly, he mocked himself for being so weak and pathetic, to be this depressed about one guy after he'd been through so much more before. But, as was his bad habit, Matt had hoped, and been let down. That was always the hardest part: the realising that all the dreams you'd wished for had never been in reach, since long before the instant you thought of them. He'd foolishly hoped he'd finally found something to spend his extra cash on, something to ward off the suffocating loneliness, if only for a while.

So much for that.

Giving up on his lukewarm meal, Matt got up, ready to tip the bowl's contents down the drain. However, as he was about to reach for the noodles, he was surprised by the doorbell. Meaning it rang.

It never rang.

Matt hesitantly walked to the door, wondering who it could possibly be. Then he remembered there was only one person who knew which house was his.

Briskly striding to the threshold and wrenching the door open, Matt readied himself to give the blond outside a well-deserved punch in the face.

He stopped in surprise, though, when he was instead met by an unfamiliar, swarthy man and his gun.

The guy smiled nastily. "Boo."


	3. Illogic

Mello stormed through the deserted streets, as over-dramatic as any actor would have been in front of a two thousand strong audience.

Stomping through puddles with unnecessary viciousness, he fumed at the general shittiness of his week.

Monday, he had failed in a job for the first time. Ever.

Tuesday, he had been hunted down by the gang he had been meant to do said job for and shot for his trouble.

Wednesday morning, he had woken up in a strange bed, being approached by a strange man with a strange personality and strange dress sense.

Wednesday afternoon...well, _now_ , rather, was being productively spent marching around dark alleyways for hours on end.

He had initially intended on going home, but it took a full five minutes before he remembered he didn't _have_ a home anymore, now that the gang had kicked him out.

So, now he was wandering (except Mello never wandered, so he wasn't) around an unfamiliar district, not lost at all and definitely not homeless.

But he _was_ cold, unfortunately; he'd left his damn jacket with the weird dude who'd thought it'd be a good idea to nurse him to health like Florence fucking Nightingale.

Perfect.

After much searching, Mello finally managed to discover an abandoned flat that wasn't a pile of rubble, mould and creepy crawlies. Finding a corner that didn't smell too bad, he curled up, his hair his only pillow and his shoulder aching from the cold, and fell into a fitful sleep.

"What do you mean, you're out of stock?!" Mello demanded, grabbing a fistful of the unfortunate shopkeeper's shirt.

"Ah – we don't have any of those jackets left anymore! They were part of the autumn collection, and we've already sent off for the winter!" the man protested.

Mello's eyes lit up with the promise of painful murder. "Well, you can just order me back one more of those jackets, then, can't you?"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "That's impossible, they were all bought. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. Would you like to try some of our other styles?"

"No!" Mello released the man and stormed out of the shop.

It was just too much. He'd spent days looking for a shop that sold the same style of jacket as he'd had, and when he finally found one, the manager had the cheek to tell him they were out of fucking stock!

He had been particularly attached to that jacket; it had been through almost as much as he had.

Mello seethed, clenching his fists and scaring children. He guessed there was nothing else for it: he was going to have to go back to the Freak Geek.

It took Mello the best part of two hours to finally make his way back to the district in which the weirdo lived. Making his way to the specific street he remembered, Mello pondered upon what to say. Should he be polite (or at the very least, not rude), seeing as he wanted something from the dude, and he hadn't exactly been courteous during their last meeting. Or should he just demand his jacket back, as he did with everything else?

Mello huffed, and turned the corner, only to see something very wrong indeed.

There was a door open.

Mello didn't need more than two seconds to recognise said door as the one he had rushed out of a few days previously. Was the guy really so stupid as to think he could leave his door hanging open like that in this area, practically inviting burglars, murderers and worse into his home?

Despite his low opinion of the kid, Mello didn't think so.

He produced his gun and flicked the safety off, holding it close to his body in a ready position. He then edged his way towards the gaping entryway, trying not to make a sound.

When he reached the door, he jumped inside the house quickly, gun still held ready. At the absence of threat (or anything, really), Mello relaxed slightly and opened the door nearest to him.

 _Woah._ Mello was speechless for the first time in his life. The room was absolutely crammed with technology: computers, laptops, gaming consoles, television monitors, and other gadgets he honestly didn't have a clue about.

 _Is this something to do with his job_? Mello asked himself, remembering the redhead's description of the illegality of his occupation. _Is he a hacker or something_?

Concluding that this was very possible, Mello shrugged and moved to the next room, finding a simple shower, toilet and sink, along with a couple of cabinets.

Wondering where the hell the nerd was (he hadn't looked like the type to go out much), Mello slammed open the door he knew led to the bedroom and scanned the area. Empty of life, as were the others.

Getting frustrated, Mello walked through the one door in the house that hadn't been closed. He came across a kitchenette, complete with fridge, table, stove and cupboards. However, the thing that disturbed him most was none of these.

Mello hurried over to the table, where a bowl of barely picked-at noodles was lying. The fork was just next to it, as if it had been put down with the intention of immediately returning back to it.

Mello frowned. He held a hand over the food. It was stone cold.

Swearing, Mello flicked his gun's safety back on and shoved it back into his trousers. It was obvious he was alone in this building, but that was more of a worry than the opposite would have been.

The guy had gone, and Mello suspected he hadn't been expecting to leave.

Which implied he had been taken against his will.

Mello cursed again, flouncing back into the bedroom, where he found his jacket neatly folded on the chair he remembered the redhead sitting in. Mello picked it up, any relief he might have felt at finding his precious item of clothing swallowed up by the concern deep in his chest.

He didn't even know why he was so worried about the damn guy; he couldn't even remember his name!

Mello scowled at himself, donning his jacket and gingerly easing it over his shoulder, though it wasn't hurting so much nowadays.

It was probable that the geek had been taken because of Mello himself, though to be fair, that was the redhead's own fault for picking him up in the first place.

Mello also had a good idea about just who had taken him.

Coming to a decision, Mello exited the house at a run, slamming the front door behind him. He refused to acknowledge the déja vu of the situation.

He was going to pay a visit to his former gang's base.


	4. Inadequacy

Matt glared at the man looming over him, earning yet another whack across the face for his trouble.

"Where is he?"

Matt spat viciously, noting distantly that there wasn't any blood in his saliva, thank God. "I don't know who you're talking about. Leave me alone!"

Another punch.

"Where is he?"

"I don't fucking know!"

Slap.

"Where is he?"

And so it went on.

As Mello twisted through the complicated mess of alleyways that led to his destination, he cursed. He cursed the baffling redhead, the maddening gang, the awful state of the road and Mello's own ridiculous sense of pride. He couldn't let an innocent get hurt because of him, and he hated that.

As he neared the warehouse where his former gang was based, Mello switched his train of thought to infiltration plans. Much as he was all for just barging in, shooting everyone in his path and dragging the Geek out of there, Mello had to admit to himself that the uneven numbers did kind of make that idea impractical. Wrinkling his nose, Mello decided on a more subtle option. He knew of a door in the side of the building that no one used very often, with minimal traffic in the corridors between it and the main holding rooms.

Mello just hoped the guy was in there. Coming all that way for nothing would have officially made that day the most annoying of his life.

Reaching the warehouse, Mello kept to the shadows and slunk around to the side of the building. Seeing the door he was to enter by, he reluctantly fitted a silencer over the muzzle of his gun. He wanted to keep this incognito.

After struggling stubbornly with the lock for a few moments, Mello gave it up as a lost cause and shot the lock open. The door swung inwards with a horrifyingly loud (to Mello, at least) screech.

Wincing and freezing in apprehension, Mello quickly checked around for any witnesses. Finding none, he pouted slightly and patted his gun reassuringly. He'd get to shoot some bastards soon enough.

As predicted, when Mello rounded the corner, he was met with a gasp of recognition and a half-call of alarm. The man didn't get to finish the first word.

Gingerly stepping over the growing puddle of blood, Mello continued down the passage, gun constantly ready.

Disappointingly, he only got to gun down four or five thugs before he reached the holding cells. Their security had become lax with his absence, as he'd known it would.

Knowing which room was occupied (as it was the only one with a guard), Mello sneaked up behind the oblivious man and shot him through the skull, catching him with his good arm before he hit the ground.

They really had let things go, Mello mused, disapproving, before he remembered that the situation worked in his favour.

Rummaging in the dead man's pocket for the keys, Mello continued looking around warily for more onlookers. Finding none of either and reminding himself that he had to hurry the hell up, Mello checked the corpse's jacket before getting frustrated and kicking the door down instead.

Looking back on it, Mello realised that probably hadn't been the best idea in the world, as the cell's inhabitant got the fright of his life.

Huffing with concealed relief while he paused in the entrance, Mello thanked the Lord that the guy he was looking for really was there, and relatively unharmed, apart from a couple of bruises on his face.

The redhead looked less grateful. "What the fuck do _you_ want?" he spat, both the words and saliva, afterwards.

Mello was put out. "The least you could do is thank me. I risked my own ass to get you out of here."

"Get me _out_? You're the one that got me here in the first place!" the angry youth accused.

Mello was nonplussed, but decided to save it for later. "Look, we don't have time for this," he said, sauntering over and untying the rope that bound his former nurse's hands. "Let's get the hell out, and argue later."

The geek sniffed, looking away in disgust.

Rolling his eyes, Mello grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room, legging it down the corridor when it became apparent that the redhead was indeed going to follow him.

A shout from behind them alerted Mello to a pursuer.

Swearing in all the languages he knew, Mello hauled his rescuee down a sharp corner, pressing both of the against the wall in time for the first bullet to go whizzing past harmlessly.

After a couple more shots were fired, Mello peeked round the corner and fired once. The attacker collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.

However, Mello knew that his yell would have alerted countless others to his presence, and wasted no time in heaving the redhead out of the safe spot and down the corridor once again.

Mello ran ahead, dragging his panting charge slightly behind him. They were going to need to hurry up if they didn't want to be annihilated.

As if in answer to his thoughts, an enormous hulk of a man suddenly loomed up in front of them. Before the startled male could even draw his weapon, Mello had shot him in the knee, sending his crashing to the ground with a bellow. He didn't have time to finish him off.

"You...are...way...too good...with a gun...to be sane," the redhead gasped between gulping inhalations.

Mello didn't waste the oxygen to reply.

Finally, they bolted out of the door together, not pausing for breath until they were a good few streets away.

Mello leaned against a wall and concentrated on respiration. The newly-freed ginger slumped down heavily on the pavement and put his head between his knees.

After Mello had processed enough oxygen for his ears to stop ringing, he noticed the redhead was having trouble. He was taking in short, cut-off breaths and not exhaling at all.

"Hey, hey," Mello said, crouching down in front of the guy. "Don't go hyperventilating on me, okay?"

He wasn't taken any notice of at all, apart from a complete halt in the stranger's wheezing. The panicked youth gulped like a goldfish, unable to get his lungs working again.

Mello became desperate, almost slapping him, but opting for calming him instead. "I didn't just rescue you from a hostile building for you to die here, you know." It was only after the words came out that he realised they weren't very comforting at all.

Placing his hands on the other's shoulders, Mello smoothly straightened the redhead's torso until he was leaning back against the wall. "Contracting your lungs won't do any good," he explained. "You asthmatic?" he asked, if only to get they guy thinking about something other than his lack of breathing.

The goggled male nodded, finally dragging in a laboured, gasping breath.

"Okay, that's what I thought." Mello tilted the man's (though, at a closer look, he was really more of a boy) chin upwards so he could look the redhead in the eye. "Right, now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. _Slowly_ ," he emphasised. "It'll feel inadequate at first, but don't panic and keep doing it until you feel your chest loosen up, okay?"

The youngster nodded again, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. He held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled gently through his mouth. The guy had almost definitely done this before, Mello noted.

After a few good minutes of this, Mello reluctantly got up. "Look," he said, "I don't want to hurry you or anything, but we've kinda got an entire gang hunting down our asses; we'd better get moving. We'll go back to your place, seeing as that's the only one we've got. You'll have to relocate in the next few days, though."

He helped the redhead to his feet, supporting him when he swayed. "Not far from here, we'll get there in five," he reassured him, if only to keep his breathing regular.

He really did not want to see this guy die, for whatever reason.

After nearly twenty minutes of false alarms and panicking, they finally reached the house.

Slamming the door behind him and leaning against it, Mello puffed out a long breath. Invalids were bloody hard work.

The redhead had recovered slightly, he realised, and obviously felt it safe to talk. "Why did you save me?" he asked, his voice rasping slightly.

Mello shrugged. "It was my fault you were in there, like you said before. I have pride, so I got you out," he explained briefly.

His self-appointed interrogator narrowed his eyes. "If you have pride, why did you grass me up in the first place, before pissing off and leaving me to get interrogated about the whereabouts of someone I don't even know?!"

Mello started, shocked. "What? I never did!" he denied vehemently, slightly insulted that the other would even consider such a thing. "They were asking about me, you moron!"

His contradiction was evidently not believed. "So how did you know where I was, then?"

"Good guess." Mello shrugged again.

The redhead tilted his head to the side. "So if you're claiming you had nothing to do with my abduction, how come you knew I was even abducted in the first place?"

It was a good question, but luckily one Mello could answer. "I came back here looking for my jacket. I left it behind before," he told him, tapping his sleeve for emphasis.

Matt nodded slowly. "Yeah, I thought you might. I still don't believe you, by the way. You had no reason not to rat on me to that little gang of yours."

"Of course I did!" Mello yelled, predictably getting angry, "You treated my wound, even if that was stupid of you, and you gave me a bed to sleep in, no matter how unwanted it was! Not to mention I was kicked out of 'that little gang of mine'," he muttered bitterly, scowling at the memory.

That caught the redhead offguard. "You were?" he asked.

Mello rolled his eyes. "Violent as they may seem, gangs don't usually shoot people and chuck them out onto the street for fun, you know."

The Geek stuck out his tongue in a surprisingly childish gesture. Recovering his maturity, he considered briefly before asking, "Why were you kicked out?"

Mello grimaced, not sure why he was even telling the dude everything. "I messed up on a job. The police caught us in the act and my accomplice got shot dead. I managed to escape unscratched, but without the goods. Obviously, they weren't amused."

The ginger smiled wryly, turning his head away. "What were 'the goods'?"

"It's better if you don't know that."

"Why are you even telling me all this?" Mello's own silent question to himself was spoken out loud. "Before, you wouldn't even tell me your name."

"Oh yeah," Mello remembered. He subtly turned the subject away from the danger zone. "I don't really like random strangers knowing who I am," he explained.

The redhead fell for it, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, I probably shouldn't have told you mine, either."

"If it makes you feel any better, I forgot it already," Mello told him.

"Oh." The guy didn't _look_ like he felt any better.

"Ah, geez, if you want to be on a first name basis already, I don't exactly have a problem with that," Mello tried to console him, which he had never done before in his life. "I'm Mello."

The redhead surprised him by bursting into a fit of sniggers.

At a questioning raised eyebrow, he explained, "You, of _all_ people, are called _Mellow_."

Mello scowled at him. "M-E-L-L-O, dumbass. It's an alias, and before you ask, no, you're not getting my real name out of me."

"I didn't expect it. I go by one too." The Geek smirked. Mello decided he didn't like his attitude. He soon lost the mocking expression, though, which made the blond less inclined to punch his lights out. "I'm Matt. Again," he reminded Mello, extending his hand for a shake.

Mello didn't take it, instead choosing to lurch up from his position slumped against the door and walk past Matt to his kitchen, slapping him on the shoulder on the way. "Yeah, whatever. By the way, Matt's a really lame alias. It sounds so normal!"

"Isn't that the point of an alias?" Matt followed him through the open door.

Mello ignored him. "Please clean this up," he said, pointing at the bowl of instant noodles that was still lying on the table. "One, it's disgusting, and two, it makes me nervous."

Matt shook his head, but obliged anyway. "Why would it make you nervous? Are you that much of a neat-freak?"

Mello snorted. "Hardly. But that's what told first me you were gone, so..." he trailed off, letting the unspoken words speak for themselves.

Matt froze, his back turned, before sighing heavily. "Why did you even care? None of the others did."

"I told you, I have pride. And what do you mean, others? The gang?" Mello interrogated, flinging himself down onto one of the two stools.

Matt seemed to realise he'd said too much. "...No," he admitted finally.

"Then who?" Mello demanded uncaringly, examining his fingernails.

Matt stayed silent.

"Look, I'm a stubborn bastard, so if you think I'm gonna give up on this, you're very wrong," Mello informed him, getting up and swivelling the other by the shoulders to face him.

Matt kept his eyes on the ground, a light flush staining his cheeks.

"Who?" Mello repeated.

Matt opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he said slowly, "When I was about eleven, my family abandoned me. I wasn't ever really wanted, and I was mistreated, but...they were my parents, you know? I...didn't _love_ them exactly, but I looked up to them. They were all I had. And then they just up and left."

Mello regarded him without sympathy. There were much worse sob stories around. "And so? What does that have to do with me?" he asked callously.

Matt finally looked him in the eye, glaring at him through thick orange lenses. "You up and left too."

"And? I'm hardly a member of your family. We don't even know each other!"

Matt looked away again, frustrating the blond. "I don't know, I...I don't really know what I expected, but I guess – I guess I thought you were different."

Mello was confused. "But why would you even think that I'd stay?"

Matt shoulders drooped even more. "I didn't. I just...didn't exactly expect you to hit me in the face and run away."

Mello winced. "Oh, right. Whoops. Sorry about that, I was a bit grumpy that morning."

Matt didn't answer.

Mello placed a finger under his chin and tilted it up. "Oi, look at me. I said sorry, didn't I? I haven't apologised to anyone for five years; you should feel grateful."

Matt didn't bother to reply to that, changing the subject. "You're going to leave again, aren't you?" It wasn't a question.

Mello was stunned. "Of course I am," he answered finally.

Matt suddenly jerked away from the blond's hand and took a step back, the noodle-filled sink pressing into his back.

"Why would you expect anything else?!" the blond cried, exasperated. "We're complete strangers!"

"Just go now, then," Matt said bitterly.

"What?! Are you bipolar or something? I thought you wanted me to stay!"

"Well you're not, so there's no point in you being here any longer. I'm sure you have you're own place to move out of tomorrow."

Mello hesitated. "Actually, I don't."

Matt looked at him, surprise evident on his features. "Huh?" was his intelligent reply.

"My accommodation was provided by the gang. Not so much now, probably."

Matt blinked. "So you have nowhere else to go?"

Mello took a step back. "I really don't like where this is going..."

Matt grabbed his jacket sleeve. "I have pride too, you know! I'm not going to let you sleep on the streets for however long!"

Mello gaped at him. "Right, now I'm sure you're bipolar. Do you want me to stay or not?"

Matt gulped. "I...yeah. Yeah, I want you to stay. Just until you find a place of your own."

"Well, that's settled then." Mello shook off Matt's hold on his jacket and refusing to acknowledge to himself that he was pleased. "But don't go getting any ideas that this is permanent or anything. I don't do clingy," he warned, for appearances.

"I'm not clingy!" Matt denied. "I just have abandonment issues," he said smugly.

Mello rolled his eyes, exasperated. "At least you acknowledge _that_ ," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, where'll I sleep? Do you have a spare mattress?"

Matt paused. "Uh..."

"Really? I refuse to go on the couch."

"I wouldn't put you on the couch, anyway."

"So where am I going to sleep, then?"

Matt hastily made plans. "I have spare blankets, so I'll sleep on the floor on a pile of them. You take the bed."

"Why am I taking the bed?" Mello asked suspiciously, wary of being coddled.

Matt looked pointedly at his shoulder. "The floor probably won't do that any good."

"True. Fine, but when it's healed, if I'm still here, we'll take turns, alright? I'm not some kind of kid that needs nurturing."

"Sure, whatever."

Mello hesitated for a second before asking the question that had been on his mind for a while. "How did they know about you? The gang."

Matt sniffed. "They saw me with you in the street, followed me back home and apparently thought I'd know where you went to after. That's pretty much it."

"Did you tell them anything?"

"Nope. I didn't even know it was you they were asking about."

"...Thanks."

"No problem."


	5. Covert

Naturally, Mello's first reaction to waking up in a strange place was to scramble around for his gun like a squirrel trying to find where it had buried its latest hoard of acorns. However, when Mello remembered where he was, and that there was no immediate danger that he knew of, he relaxed slightly and sank his head into the soft pillow again.

It wasn't a feather one, which suited Mello just fine, as he found down to always have those little poky things that stick you in the eye when you least expect it. No, this pillow's stuffing was made from good old polyester, one of the best inventions of mankind, in Mello's opinion. Just after chocolate and firearms.

Rolling onto his side, Mello gazed down at the bundle of blankets and pillows on the floor directly next to the bed. Matt was lying somewhere underneath the mess, only a mop of crimson hair poking out from the covers.

The redhead didn't seem to snore, which earned him some grudging respect in Mello's eyes.

Glancing at the clock, Mello noted that it was precisely twenty-seven past six in the morning, revealing that he had actually had a lie-in. Well, he supposed he deserved it, after all he'd been through the past few days. It was certainly nice to be back in a proper bed again, and Mello was almost tempted to just roll over and start power-napping again.

Unfortunately, though, Mello detested getting up at any time after quarter to seven, as it always made the day seem too short to fit everything into it. And so, as quietly as he could, so as not to wake his host, Mello stood up and padded out of the room, still in his borrowed T-shirt and sweats.

When he reached the one door in the house he was most curious about, Mello stopped for a second and listened for any noises. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong, but he would rather Matt didn't know about this anyway.

Turning the handle silently, Mello entered the Tech Lair, as he remembered Matt so fondly describing it.

Taking a long look around the crowded room, Mello was again stunned by the sheer amount of technology occupying one space. There were at least eight enormous TV or computer monitors (Mello had no idea which), even more keyboards of various different styles, gaming consoles galore, and wires absolutely _everywhere_.

 _What the heck does he even use all this stuff for?_ Mello thought incredulously. Most of the things looked the same to him; he had absolutely no clue why Matt needed ten of each.

He walked to the largest computer in the room, placing his socked feet carefully between various screens and extension cords. When he reached it, he noticed the letters on the keys were faded, indicating Matt used this specific machine a lot.

 _Bingo_ , Mello thought, smiling mischievously.

He seated himself in front of the screen and pressed the power key. While it was firing up, Mello pondered upon what Matt's so-called illegal job could possibly be with all the technology.

_Of course, it's most likely he's a hacker of sorts. That's the most obvious explanation for all this junk. Then again, he could be an electronics developer for some shady organisation, an illegal researcher, a phone or computer tapper, or any number of things. He could also be something completely unrelated to this, and the tech's just a hobby, but the probability of that's only twelve percent..._

Mello's train of thought came to a halt as he realised to computer was ready, faster than expected.

 _He probably upgraded it or some shit_ , he thought rolling his eyes.

Looking at the password bar, Mello pondered on what it could possibly be. The blond was a self-proclaimed failure of a hacker (he was more likely to blow up a laptop than get into someone else's with it), but he prided himself on being exceptionally good at reading people.

 _Judging by all this crap, the guy knows what he's doing_ , Mello mused, leaning back in the chair, _I sincerely doubt he'd have some easy-ass password. It'll be long, complicated and consisting almost entirely of numbers and punctuation, probably case-sensitive. There won't be any sort of pattern, wording or sense to the sequence, but it'd have to be less than fifteen characters so that he wouldn't spend ages punching in the passcode. So, I've got a choice of fifteen or less characters from a selection of...96. In any order. He probably has some kind of locking system that freezes up the computer after a certain amount of failures. I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of cracking this one._

He tried anyway.

Flexing his fingers, Mello was just about to start tapping away when a voice from behind him caused him to jump out of his skin.

"What are you doing?"

Mello froze, automatically scouring the room for anything he could use as a weapon. Then he revolved slowly in the office chair to come face to face with a suspicious-looking Matt.

"Uh..." he hesitated, looking sheepish.

Matt narrowed his eyes. "If you're being paid to hack into my system to deliver information to that fucking gang of yours, I can tell you now you won't be leaving here alive."

Mello swallowed. He wasn't scared of the guy at all, but he didn't really want to be jumped right now, what with his shoulder and all. "I swear I wasn't doing this out of maliciousness or for any gang. I was just curious about your job, and seeing as there're so many of them here, I thought it had something to do with all these gadgets," he explained.

Matt didn't seem to buy his excuse completely, but relaxed slightly anyway. "I'm a hacker and/or cracker," he told Mello indifferently, "I work for whoever pays me to gather information, plant viruses or bugs, or disable security systems."

Mello nodded. That made sense, and the redhead didn't sound like he was lying. "I see. That's pretty cool, I guess. So you actually know how to use all this stuff?" he asked, if only to steer the conversation away from the danger zone.

Matt gave him a look. "Of course, why else would I have it? But anyway, why were you trying to get into my computer?"

Mello grimaced. The guy wasn't as stupid as he'd hoped.

Matt continued. "You could have just asked me about my job, you don't need to go rooting through my personal belongings."

Mello spent a few seconds thinking up an answer that wouldn't sound like he was making it up on the spot. He wasn't lying, for the first time in his life, and it made him feel pressurised. Irony had no bounds.

Taking a filler breath first, Mello spoke, "I don't really feel...comfortable with talking to people. You might have noticed. I'm just so used to doing things the unconventional, illegal way that it didn't really occur to me to use the normal method instead. Sorry, I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like that," he apologised sincerely, though he wasn't really sorry in the slightest. Mello didn't regret anything this minor.

Matt seemed to analyse his confession for a moment, before apparently deeming it satisfactory and grinning at the blond. "Alright, I'll buy it. But if I catch you doing something like this behind my back again, I won't be so lenient, 'kay? Though you'll never get into it, so there's really no point," he boasted subtly, obviously proud of his security system.

Mello nodded, ninety-eight percent sure the guy was right. Getting up from the chair, he walked over to where Matt was standing. "So anyway, how did you manage to sneak up without me noticing? No one's ever been able to do that before."

Matt's grin morphed into a smug smirk that Mello instantly hated. "I guess I'm not as useless as you seem to think I am," he said conceitedly.

Mello glared at him, then marched out of the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, the blond noticed Matt's eyes. Or rather, he noticed the fact that they were glued to Mello's narrow hips, where the borrowed sweats were just clinging on to them.

 _Oho,_ he thought wickedly, _this'll be fun._

* * *

The dysfunctional pair sat at the small kitchen table, munching on cereal. Mello looked distinctly unimpressed with the Bran Flakes, chewing slowly and choking it down like it tasted foul.

Matt shot him an irritated look, chowing on a mouthful of his own breakfast. Swallowing, he said, "Oh, come on, it's not that bad! It's good for you!"

Mello looked sour. "It tastes like shit," he complained, "and you're the last person I'd expect to be concerned about their health enough to eat _this_."

Matt shoved in another spoonful, saying around the mush, "It's not so bad once you get used to it. And I don't really get much exercise, what with my job and all, so I eat well in order to avoid being fat. That would suck."

Mello choked at the mental image of an obese Matt, spraying milk and tiny bits of dissolved cereal all over the table through his nose.

He flushed in humiliation, bringing a hand up to hide his still-streaming nose. "Shit, sorry," he apologised.

Matt looked mournfully at his now-contaminated bowl of cereal. "Now _that_ ," he pointed at his food, "is really disgusting."

"Sorry," Mello repeated. He didn't often apologise this much, but then again, he didn't often spout milk and cereal from his nose either. And Matt seemed to have the most curious... _mellowing_ effect on him (pun most definitely intended).

Matt passed him a kitchen towel and the blond took it gratefully, mopping up the mess on his face.

The redhead eyed him in silence, taking in the pale pink blush dusted over the blond's cheeks. Mello was almost painfully pretty. It just wasn't fair! How could a guy be that stunning?!

He quickly averted his eyes when Mello glanced up again, staring down at the mess of pre-masticated cereal, mucus and saliva floating around in his bowl.

It appeared even someone as beautiful as Mello could produce something that made him want to hurl.

Wrinkling his nose and standing up with an extra "Eww..." for effect, Matt walked over to the sink and dumped his ruined breakfast in the basin.

As he returned to the table, he noticed Mello sneakily squashing the soggy bits of bran with his spoon, reducing them to an almost-undetectable mush at the bottom of his bowl.

Matt poked him admonishingly, saying, "Oi. I might make you eat that now."

Mello whipped around to stare at him, alarmed. "You wouldn't. Would you?" He looked honestly scared for his life.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Of course not, I'm not your mother, even if you do act like a toddler at times. But if you don't want to eat this, you can bloody well buy your own damn cereal. I'm not shelling out for some shit full of E-numbers."

"Don't have any money," Mello reminded him smugly.

Matt groaned. "Naturally. Then get some," he suggested helpfully.

"How?"

"A _job_?"

"What kind of job?"

Matt mentally screamed in frustration. "I don't care! Stacking shelves in the corner shop? Serving tables in a restaurant? Prostitution? I don't give a shit, as long as it gets you enough cash to buy freaking cereal!"

Mello regarded him curiously, and not without a large amount of surprise. "And then you'll pay for everything else?" he asked disbelievingly.

Matt blinked, surprised at the question. "Uh...yeah, I guess so. I have a lot of excess cash from my last job, so I can afford to feed you and stuff. Apart from cereal. I'm not paying for you to poison yourself with Coco Pops or whatever."

Mello frowned, all of a sudden examining the apparently fascinating tabletop.

"What's up?" Matt asked, "You don't accept charity?"

Mello snorted, though thankfully this time _without_ a mouthful of food. "Nah, I'm not _that_ proud. I'll accept help if someone offers it, as long as it has no strings attached."

Matt scowled. "And you think I'm going to blackmail you into something unsavoury?" he asked grumpily, though it wasn't really a question.

"No, I didn't mean that!" Mello denied quickly, "It's just that I don't often _get_ no-strings attached help. I was surprised you offered, is all."

"Jeez. What kind of world did you grow up in?" Matt asked, shocked that someone would have reason to be that distrustful of humans.

"The same as yours," Mello declared bitterly, "but the harsher side of it."

Matt bit his lip, feeling decidedly awkward. "Right," he said.

Mello sighed heavily, abandoning his disgusting, brown slop. "You do realise we can't stay here longer than a couple of days, right?" he asked.

Matt groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He really didn't want to think about that right now. "Yeah, I know, I know. But I really have no clue where we'll _go_. I don't have any other place and if I spend my money on a new apartment, I'll have none left for the necessities."

Mello cupped his chin in his hands, humming thoughtfully. "I think I might know someone who'd be able to help us. He's a dickhead, though."

Matt looked up in interest. "If they'll help, I wouldn't care if they were Hitler incarnate. Who?"

"Just this guy I know from the youth institution I lived in during my pre-teens. He's a detective now."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You know a detective? And you _haven't_ been arrested yet?"

"He doesn't give a shit about law and all that either, as long as I don't full-out attack him."

"Why the heck is he a detective, then?" Matt was confused.

Mello shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, he owes me for a reconnaissance trip I did for him a while back, so he'll probably provide us with free accommodation if you act nice and pretend you aren't a weirdo that'll ruin his property."

"Like you can talk."

"He knows me already. Anyway, we'll probably be able to visit him tomorrow. You have transport?"

Matt grinned. "Yeah. Chevy, but I tweaked her a bit. She's beautiful."

Mello blinked, unimpressed. "Whatever. Can we use it to go see the douchebag?"

"Y'know, you're really not warming me to this person. They can't be that bad. And yeah, we can."

"Good."

They sat in an unbelievably awkward silence for a few minutes before Matt decided to speak up.

"You know what? It ridiculous: we're going to be living together, for heaven's sake, and we still barely know a thing about each other!"

Mello glanced up. "And? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get to know you," Matt said, like it was obvious.

Mello opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. "Fine, whatever makes you happy. I suppose I should be nice to you, seeing as you're housing me and all."

"Damn straight," Matt told him, pondering on what to ask as a not-so-private question. Failing to come up with one of those, he enquired, "So...what happened to your face?"

Mello shot him a glare that would have killed a lesser mortal. Matt just shot him his I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think look.

Muttering to himself under his breath, Mello self-consciously let his long hair fall to veil the marred side of his face. "Accident," he told Matt briefly.

"What kind of accident?" Matt pushed.

Mello tutted in exasperation. "The police made an unexpected raid on our last base, so after everyone got out, I blew up the building. Happy now?" he asked acidly.

Matt frowned, trying to work out exactly how that would have got Mello a scar that enormous. Then he froze in shock, staring at the blond wide-eyed. "You weren't _inside_ the building at the time, were you?"

"What do you think?"

Matt gazed at him in horror, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Mello became even more self-conscious, ducking his head (his scar was his sore point). "What?" he demanded grouchily.

"You...you're completely insane, you know that?" Matt told him, shaking his head in amazement.

Mello snorted derisively. "Like I haven't been told that before. Anyway, my turn!" he announced with false cheer.

Needless to say, Matt was suddenly apprehensive as to what Mello would ask about, exactly.

The blond tilted his head to one side in thought, flaxen hair shifting with the movement. Finally, he said, "Why did you take me in?"

"I told you, I didn't want you to go around sleeping rough with a bloodthirsty gang on your tail!"

"No, not that time! The very first time. When I was chucked out onto the street."

"Oh, that one..." Matt thought about it.

Before, he'd thought he'd had a reason to take Mello in and tend to his wounds, but now said blond had actually posed the question...he didn't know for sure.

But he definitely knew it had something to do with a shallow admiration of his outward appearance.

Blushing quite a lot, but naïvely hoping Mello wouldn't notice, Matt murmured, "Dunno. Guess I just didn't like the idea of you dying of blood loss in the cold."

Mello wasn't appeased. "So you'd have done it for anyone else?"

"Probably not a fat guy. I'm not quite up to weight-lifting just yet," Matt quipped.

"You're lying," Mello informed him calmly, leaning his chin on his palm.

Cursing inwardly, Matt wondered what had given him away. His eyes were completely hidden by his goggles, and he usually kept up a pretty good poker face.

Mello interrupted his thoughts. "One of the reasons I was such an asset to the gang is that I'm exceptionally good at reading people. The way you tell whether someone is telling the truth or not isn't by their face or body language – though you can if you try hard enough – but by what they say and how they say it. While answering the initial question, you mumbled as if you didn't quite want me to hear the answer, and with the second, you avoided the question by only answering it for one category of person and attempting to cover it up with humour."

This time, Matt's cursing was audible.

Mello smirked. "Face it, I'm right."

Matt swore at him again.

"Shall I tell you why _I_ think you picked me up?" Mello asked, idly tracing circles on the tabletop with his finger. Matt really wished he'd stop; it was putting him on edge.

Tearing his eyes away from the mesmerising patterns Mello was drawing, Matt folded his arms in a defensive posture that he knew was obvious as an elephant in a shower. "If I say no, will you tell me anyway?"

"Yes."

"In that case, go ahead."

Mello smirked slightly. "I think you like the way I look."

Matt nearly died of humiliation then and there.

Mello chuckled at his beetroot-red face for a minute before continuing: "But I don't think little enough of you to imagine that was the only reason. I figure you're kinda lonely, all by yourself in this house, with the only person to spend your money on being yourself."

Matt swallowed. Mello'd hit the nail on the head.

"And I'll let you in on a little secret." Mello looked up at him through his lashes. "I'm kinda lonely too."

Matt inhaled shakily. It was honestly ridiculous (not to mention dangerous) what Mello (who, he reminded himself, he had barely known for a week) could do to him with only a few words.

"I don't think you're a bad person," Mello said, standing up and walking over to where Matt sat, frozen. "I don't think you're untrustworthy either." He leaned down to remove Matt's goggles, sliding them down his face while he stared into emerald eyes. "I've never trusted anyone in my life. But I think I might try to, just this one time." He brushed his lips lightly across Matt's cheekbone, a slight smirk playing across his lips.

Matt appeared to have forgotten how to breathe.

"One word of warning, though," Mello drew back to look at him properly. "Betray me, and I'll never forgive you. I will make your life as miserable as possible," he vowed fervently.

Matt nodded woodenly. "I haven't fully trusted many people in my time either," he told the blond, "But I'm willing to try with you, one last time. But," Matt's forehead creased in concern, "we can't just start trusting each other immediately, now that we've decided we will. That's impossible."

"Of course it's impossible!" Mello scoffed, straightening up and pushing his hair out of his eyes. "We'll have to be patient; it's a thing that'll come with time, hopefully."

Matt blinked. "Does that mean...?"

"I'm staying, yeah." Mello flashed him a cheeky grin. "Indefinitely."

Matt grinned back, relieved for reasons beyond his understanding. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, though.

"Mello?"

"Hm?"

"Why me?"

Mello looked at him with an expression that Matt would have described as tender, on anyone else's face.

"You're different," he said softly.


	6. Relocation

"So, here she is!" Matt announced proudly, gesturing towards his baby. The Chevrolet Chevelle SS 454 shone a gleaming red in the dim light of the garage.

"You do realise the thing I'm most impressed by is the fact that you have a garage in your tiny place, right?" Mello deadpanned, munching on a chocolate bar and looking decidedly disinterested by the vehicle. He had no time for cars.

"But look how gorgeous she is!" Matt protested, slightly injured.

Mello appraised the car for a few moments before he clicked his tongue and looked at Matt again. "Not seeing it," he informed him.

Matt tried not to pout like a five year old the entire way to the so-called ultra-secret headquarters that Mello was directing him to.

The pair had packed their (Matt's) belongings early that morning, and had left the small apartment for the last time at seven am. Subsequently, Matt was finding it hard to stay awake at the wheel, but thoughts of what Mello would do if left to his own devices kept the redhead's eyes determinedly open.

Despite Mello's warnings that the person they were going to see (who for some reason had a preposition for a name) was "fucking annoying" and "sheep-like", Matt was curious to meet them. Even putting aside the possibility of free accommodation, anyone who could get Mello this riled up when they weren't even in a fifty-mile radius had to be something special.

Near, as it turned out, was very special indeed.

"Mello," he greeted in a monotone, "What a surprise."

He certainly didn't _look_ surprised.

"Cut the crap, Sheep, I need accommodation," Mello demanded rudely.

"Me too," Matt chipped in, not wanting to be overlooked.

Near regarded him distantly. "And who might the stranger be?" He directed the question at Mello, which offended Matt slightly.

"I'm Matt," he said, stubbornly refusing to be put down so early in the conversation.

"And what is Matt doing here?" Well, at least the guy had the courtesy to actually talk to him now, even if it was in the third person.

"I'm Mello's..." Matt hesitated. What _was_ he to Mello? They certainly weren't friends yet, but they weren't strangers either.

"Matt's my new, self-appointed mother," Mello told Near, smirking slightly.

Matt resisted the urge to hit the blond.

Near's facial expression didn't change in the slightest. "I see," he said, "And why would Mello want accommodation if he has such a generous benefactor?"

Matt glowered. He hated to admit it, but Mello had been right. This Sheep _was_ fucking annoying.

"We got tangled up in gang business," Mello explained curtly, obviously not liking having to respond to Near's question.

"I see." Near nodded slightly. "I recently heard from Gevanni that Mello has been dismissed from his criminal group. Is that true?"

"You've been keeping fucking tabs on me?!" Mello snarled furiously.

Near nodded again, utterly unashamed. "Just as Mello has been keeping tabs on me, or else he would not have known where my new headquarters were."

"Fuck you."

Near ignored the expletive; it seemed he was used to them. "And how did Matt get mixed up in Mello's unsavoury career?" he turned to the redhead.

Matt sighed. " _Long_ story." Seeing Near's blank face that _may_ have been supposed to show expectancy, Matt elaborated, "I saw Mello get kicked out of his gang – literally – and brought him back to my place to heal his injuries. I was probably followed back to my apartment, and after Mello left, they abducted me to try and get information on his whereabouts so they could kill him."

Near's ears pricked up (figuratively, of course). "To kill Mello? But if they wanted Mello dead, why did they not just kill him immediately?"

Mello scoffed. "The bastards shot me in the shoulder and dumped me on the street in the freezing cold. They probably thought I'd die of blood loss or hypothermia: whichever came first. But then Matt came along." He shot a glance at the redhead that could have been interpreted as either grateful or patronising, depending on one's self-esteem.

Matt had always had a very low self-esteem. He ducked his head. "Well, excuse _me_ for saving your ass," he mumbled.

Mello didn't answer.

Near decided the mini-conversation had come to a close. "Continue," he commanded Matt, who didn't appreciate the order in the slightest.

"So, they abducted me, but Mello got me out of there because he'd realised I was gone while he came back to look for his jacket..." this time it was Matt's turn to shoot the patronising look, "...and thought it'd hurt his pride too much to let me be tortured to death. After we got back, we agreed we'd live together for an indefinite period of time, as neither of us really have a home anymore," Matt lied through his teeth. "We couldn't stay in my apartment, for obvious reasons."

Near looked unperturbed by the obvious fib, apparently deeming it unimportant as to why the two had really decided to live together. "I see." Those seemed to be his two favourite words of all time. "And why would Mello and Matt think I would provide them with accommodation?" he asked flatly.

Mello actually growled. "You bloody well owe me that much, you fucking bastard! I risked my life getting the information you wanted on my boss!"

Matt made a mental note to ask him about that particular mission later.

"That is true," Near allowed. "Very well," he announced, "I see no problem in giving Mello and Matt free accommodation for the next few months, until they can find a place of their own to stay. However, I will make Mello and Matt an offer."

Mello narrowed his eyes, Matt following suit, though no one could see behind his goggles.

"What kind of offer?" Mello asked suspiciously.

"I will allow Mello and Matt to stay in the accommodation I give them indefinitely, and in addition pay for their necessities," he began.

Matt interrupted. "Woah, really?! No way!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Mello warned him, "He'd never make this offer without a reason."

"Mello speaks the truth," Near said. "My conditions are that Mello and Matt give up any criminal activity they may be involved in, and also help me on a case I have recently come across that is giving me slight trouble."

Mello's eyebrows practically shot through the ceiling. "What?! A case is giving _you_ trouble?" he asked incredulously. "What kind of case?"

"I shall tell Mello that if and when he accepts my conditions."

Mello pondered. "Fine, we'll do it," he accepted for both himself and Matt.

The redhead didn't complain: free stuff was good, right? Especially now he didn't have the boredom factor to worry about.

The white-haired boy didn't seem to be finished, however. "Matt," he addressed the redhead.

"Hm?" Matt was still daydreaming about free stuff.

"The fact that Mello has acquiesced to living with Matt strongly suggests that Matt is involved in some form of criminal activity. By accepting my terms, Matt has promised not to partake in such activities again, so that in itself is not a problem, but it is necessary for me to know what he was doing, as it might help further my case," Near explained at length.

Matt blinked. "I'm – I _was_ a hacker. I'm pretty good with technology."

Near nodded. "Very well, that will be useful." He turned his back to them. "Halle will show Mello and Matt to their new home now," he said, "It's three floors above."

Matt was flummoxed. "We'll be living in this building?" he asked, looking around at the uninviting, cold metal walls and ceilings.

"I can assure Matt that the higher floors are more comfortable," Near told him. "Halle."

A blonde woman walked over and addressed Mello only. "I will take you to your rooms now."

Matt rolled his eyes at the obvious brush-off. He couldn't help it if he wasn't as gobsmackingly gorgeous as Mello.

The followed the Blonde Bitch, as Matt had named her, to the lift and stood in a horrendously awkward silence as they waited for the elevator to reach Floor Three. Finally, the bell 'dinged' and the two males stepped out.

Halle stayed in the elevator, and before pressing the button that would send her back to the ground floor, she told them (or Mello), "The entire floor is yours to do with what you wish. I hope you find it satisfactory." The doors slid closed and she disappeared.

The two stood there for a while, taking in their surroundings.

"Pretty snazzy, huh?" Matt said. Understatement. To him, it was the equivalent of the Ritz.

Mello hummed in what Matt decided to be agreement, and walked off down the corridor. An opened door revealed a full-sized kitchen and dining area.

Matt gawped. The only thing he could think was, _They actually have a smoothie maker..._

Mello didn't seem to be as impressed by the room as Matt was, setting off again to discover a bedroom.

Matt nearly died at the sight of the king-sized bed. "I'm in heaven..." he murmured, awed.

Mello rolled his eyes. "There should be two bedrooms in this place, unless the Sheep thinks we want to share," he said.

Even Matt's amazement at his new living quarters couldn't stop a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Mello snickered. "This room's mine. Go find yours, and meet me back here when you're done ogling the furniture," he ordered.

"Why?" Matt asked, "Are we gonna go down and get our stuff from the car?"

"Not yet. There's something I want to check first."

Matt looked at him in confusion, but went to find his room anyway.

Upon discovering it, he couldn't stop himself from taking a running leap at the massive bed and bouncing up and down on his knees for a full five minutes. Then he remembered Mello's words and reluctantly trailed back to the blond's room.

"Finally," Mello greeted him from where he was sprawled out on his own mattress.

Matt tried not to lick his lips at the sight of Mello's bare midriff (the blond had taken off his jacket). "So...what do you want to check?" he asked.

Mello sat up swiftly, beckoning the redhead over.

Matt hesitantly made his way to Mello's bed and sat cautiously on the edge of the mattress.

"So, what?" he asked again.

Mello's words immediately sent Matt's system into overload. "We're being watched."

"Huh?" was all Matt could manage through the chaos.

"There're security cameras all around the place. I'm sure Near, the fucker, knew we'd know they're here; he probably just wants to piss me off. But I'm gonna need your help getting them all dismounted."

Mat groaned. "Do you even have any idea how many there are?"

Mello shrugged. "Not the foggiest. But I've counted the ones in my room, and I've got seventeen. Help me get them down?" He tilted his head to the side, as if that alone could make Matt do what the blond wanted.

Unfortunately, it could. "Fine..." Matt got up. "Where are they?"

"There are some in the lampshades and stuff, but I'll need help reaching the ones on the ceiling," Mello admitted, "I'm only five six."

Matt scowled. "Well I'm only five foot five! How am I supposed to help?!"

"Together, if I sit on your shoulders, we'll be about eight foot three inches. That should be enough."

"Why should I carry you?" Matt demanded, "I'm smaller!" If only by an inch.

"I'm lighter."

"Are you now?"

"Last time I measured, fifty two kilos."

"Fuck you. I'm about fifty two as well."

"I'm rounding up from fifty one point seven."

"You're the strongest!"

"How would you know?"

"I spend all my freaking time in front of a computer screen! I'm hardly going to be muscular, am I?"

Mello reached out to trail a hand over Matt's painstakingly-created abdominal muscles. He practically purred, "Hmm...I don't know about that."

Matt's face was now maroon, but he refused to give in. "I am almost completely certain that you are stronger than me, and should therefore be on the bottom."

"This conversation could easily be taken the wrong way, couldn't it?"

Maroon had turned to puce. "I...I..." Matt spluttered.

"You'll be bottom like the good little puppy you are, right?" Mello whispered huskily, hand still on Matt's lower stomach.

Matt didn't seem to remember how to form a sentence.

"Good, that's settled then!" Mello hopped off the bed and walked over to the corner of the room. "First one's here!" he announced, pointing up.

Matt grudgingly walked to the blond and stooped over. "On you get, then," he grumbled.

Still smirking, Mello clambered onto Matt's shoulders, his bullet wound seemingly completely healed, and gripped his hair.

"Careful with that," Matt warned, "I don't want to go bald anytime soon."

Mello loosened his grip slightly. "Right. Now straighten up a bit," he ordered.

Matt obeyed, realising he wasn't in a good position to defy Mello now. Mello removed one hand from his hair, stretching it up as high as possible. He just managed to grab the tiny camera in his gloved palm.

Got it!" he exclaimed, throwing the thing coolly onto his bed and leapfrogging over Matt's head, landing neatly on the carpet. "Next one!"

They went in such a pattern for nearly forty minutes, the hardest one being right in the middle of the ceiling. Mello had nearly ripped Matt's hair out by the roots trying to reach it without any support from a wall.

Finally, the two had removed all the bugs from Mello's bedroom. Matt collapsed on the bed among the decommissioned cameras, exhausted, while Mello just sat down on the duvet, like he did things like this every other day.

"Fuck, we're gonna have to do that for every fucking room," Matt groaned, seriously contemplating suicide just to get out of it.

Mello wrinkled his nose in distaste. It seemed he wasn't too fond of the idea either. "If we ask Near nicely, we may be able to get him to remove them himself. If that doesn't work, we'll ask him not-so-nicely."

Matt sat up in a fury. "You think of that _now_?"

Mello smirked. "It was quite fun using you as a stepladder," he admitted cheekily.

Matt just groaned and flopped back down on his back. "I hate you," he mumbled into his arm, thrown melodramatically over his face.

"You don't mean that," Mello told him confidently.

Matt didn't think Mello needed the ego boost of being told he was completely right, as always.

"Anyway, I'll phone Near now." Mello produced a mobile phone from somewhere on his person (Matt had no idea what part of his skin-tight leather outfit had space for a pocket) and dialled a number. He then started nattering in gobbledegook, causing Matt to look at him in alarm.

After the blond hung up, he said, "There'll be someone round in a few minutes to remove all cameras, and I have permission to shoot him if he leaves any."

Matt ignored the information and instead asked, "What the hell kinda language was that? Why can't you speak in English like a _normal_ person?!"

Mello looked at him patronisingly. "That was Japanese, Matt. Surely you know what Japanese sounds like?"

"Not when you speak it that fast, I don't! And since when do you know Japanese?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "It's hardly an inhuman feat. It was one of the languages taught at the youth institution me and Near went to," he explained.

Matt narrowed his eyes. "And what were the other languages?"

Mello thought for a second. "Mandarin, Cantonese, German, French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, Korean, Dutch, Punjabi, Portuguese, Hindi, Arabic, Javanese, Tamil, Romanian and Polish."

Matt gaped. "And you're fluent in all of them?"

"Nope, I only took eight. But Japanese is my favourite."

Matt just put his head in his hands. "Why...?" he groaned.

"What's the problem?" Mello asked unsympathetically. "How many do you speak?"

Matt looked at him. "English, French and American."

"American? Do you mean Nahuatl?"

"No. I mean American. Like, English with a drawl and misspellings."

"Right."

Matt clutched at his hair again. "I feel like a retard!" he cried.

"Aren't you?"

"Fuck off, you're not helping."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Near sent me to remove the cameras," a disembodied voice informed them.

"Go ahead and do it, then," Mello suggested. He waited for the man to walk away, then jumped up, dragging Matt along with him.

"Hey!" the redhead protested, "What are you doing?"

"Observing him to make sure he doesn't put in any more bugs or crap," Mello stated.

Matt just sighed and followed the blond out of the bedroom.

Though Mello watched him like a hawk for the entire time he was removing the cameras, the man sent by Near did not, in fact, set up any more bugs. After the job was done, he gathered up the enormous amount of gadgets and walked out with a short, polite word of farewell, which neither occupant of the floor returned.

When they were sure the elevator was long gone, Mello finally seemed to relax slightly. "Good. I hate being watched...fucking Near."

Matt watched him carefully. "What's your relationship with Near?" he asked out of curiosity.

Mello snorted. "Non-existent."

"Right. So how do you two know each other?"

"I told you: youth institution."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly _was_ this 'youth institution'?"

Mello leaned against the wall and thumped the back of his head lightly on the plaster. "It was called Wammy's House. It was an orphanage for kids with higher intelligence than usual, hence the multiple foreign languages etcetera. We studied and lived there until we came of age, and were sent off into the big, wide world by ourselves."

Matt's eyes bugged. "Woah. Near's over eighteen?"

Mello snorted. "Don't be daft, at Wammy's House, you 'come of age' at fifteen."

Matt frowned. "Isn't that kind of young? Seems a bit callous..."

The blond shrugged. "We live in a callous world. And we were all geniuses, anyway. We could fend for ourselves."

"By going off and joining shady gangs?" Matt asked sardonically.

Mello gave him a very nasty look indeed. "Shut the fuck up," he suggested.

"And one more thing," Matt continued, prompting another glare fit to kill, "What exactly was the favour you did for Near? The one where you had to gather intel on your boss."

Mello was silent for a long time. Matt was about to ask again, when the blond said, "Near suspected my gang of being involved with something other than the usual stuff. Something like assassination of business officials and the like: he didn't give me full details."

"Right. And how did that go?"

"I gave Near all the information I could, risking my ass, and he said he'd help me out in the future if I needed it. That's all there is to it." He shrugged.

Matt smiled softly enough to compel Mello to ask, "What're you smirking at? That story sound funny to you?"

"No," Matt denied, still smiling. "It's just, you pretend to hate Near so much –"

" _Pretend_?! I _do_ hate the fucking bastard!" Mello interrupted angrily.

Matt ignored him. "You say that, and yet you'll do a favour like that for him, with no initial reward. I think you're kinder than you'd like other people to think, Mello," Matt told him.

"I felt like I owed him something for not handing me over to the police straight away when he became a detective," Mello muttered, seeming to address the floor.

He could have been, for all the notice Matt took of him.

"It's nice to know you have a softer side to you," the redhead said quietly.

Mello's stinging slap caught him off guard.

"What?!" he yelled, cradling his cheek.

Mello glowered at him, furious. "The sooner you realise that not everyone is all happy with sunshine and rainbows twinkling out of their backsides, the better. You piss me off, with all this idealistic shit! You're as naïve as a fucking toddler, always looking for the 'softer side' of every person you meet! It'll get you _killed_ one day!" the blond screamed.

Matt was silent, biting his lip and holding both his cheek and his tears.

Mello stared at him for a while, before sighing heavily and crouching before the hunched-over youth and gently removing the redhead's hand from his face.

"Sorry for disrespecting you like that," he said softly, examining the stark handprint on Matt's otherwise flawless cheek. "I should have punched you properly instead."

Matt stared at him incredulously. "What the fuck?"

Mello explained, "A slap is a sign of disrespect. It shows the assailant can't be bothered to curl their hand into a fist and hit the other in the proper way."

"Well that makes me feel a whole lot better," Matt mumbled, his eyes watering for reasons completely unrelated to the sting lingering on his face. He hated being looked down on, especially by someone he was actually trying to trust.

"Hey, I said I was sorry. That doesn't happen often." Mello tilted the redhead's face towards him and looked him in the eye. "You can slap me back, if you want." He didn't mention it, but an offer like that had never happened before.

Matt shook his head, whispering. "It's okay, I was being stupid and idealistic. I'm too naïve for my own good."

Mello frowned, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Oi, don't put yourself down like that, it's..." he stopped himself from saying 'annoying'. "...not healthy. If you don't stick up for yourself, who will? Man, for a guy who had an illegal job, you sure can't handle yourself."

Matt smiled humourlessly. "I am slightly useless, yeah."

Mello tapped him on the head sharply. "Stop it. You're not useless, and if I belie myself later, don't believe me. I have a habit of letting my mouth run off with me when I'm in a temper."

"I can see that," Matt chuckled, a small speck of humour finally working its way back into his voice.

Mello exhaled with relief. "We're going to have to work on that self-esteem of yours. I physically cannot work with someone so self-deprecating. When did it start, anyway?"

Matt hesitated. "When I was small...I used to get put down a lot. Like, kids would tease me about my hair and asthma, my parents would tell me I was stupid...stuff like that. I guess it kind of rubbed off on me. I usually hold it in quite well, though. Sorry you had to see me in depressed mode," he apologised lightly, but his expression wasn't any less serious.

Mello hummed in thought. "Yeah, I've seen people like that before. A few of them committed suicide in the end. I hope you're not thinking of doing that too." The warning was barely concealed.

Matt shook his head fervently. "No way. I'm not _that_ depressed! And anyway, I'd be too scared to do anything like that. I have a sort of phobia of my own blood and stuff. Not for me."

Mello smirked. "Right. Oh, and about your asthma."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any medicine for it? It can get pretty bad," Mello warned, as if Matt didn't know already.

"Yeah, but I'll have to get a repeat prescription soon, the preventative's running out," Matt told him.

"We'll get Near to get you another," Mello decided, "The Sheep may as well be good for something."

"He _is_ giving us free housing," Matt reminded him.

"We've got to help him on a case for that. And trust me, any case Near needs help on isn't gonna be a piece of cake. He's one of the smartest people I know," Mello admitted grudgingly.

"Smarter than you?" Matt teased.

Mello scowled.

Matt laughed, and received a thump on the arm.

"Don't you dare tell him I said anything like that, okay? I can promise that you will die slowly and painfully."

"I believe you."

"Good."

"...It's still cute, though."

"Shut up."

* * *

Later that night, while Matt was asleep in his own bedroom, Mello lay awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

It bothered him that the redhead he was living with was so unsure of himself, when (though Mello would never admit it to anyone) he was one of the most amazing people the blond had met. Without even realising it, Matt had changed him, Mello, into something he barely recognised. He apologised more, he tried to comfort Matt...he hated to think it, but Matt was right. He _did_ have a soft side. One that Matt himself had created, with a click of his fingers.

Mello frowned. Matt was his one chink in his armour, already his weakness, and he'd only known him for a few days!

However...seeing the redhead's grin when he was happy, seeing his awe at simple things like smoothie makers...it made Mello, for lack of a better word, _happy_. And Mello wasn't quite ready to give him up yet.

Also, it was just too much fun to play around with Matt's empty attraction to him, and see that adorable blush on his face. He was too cute...

Mello snorted derisively at his own sentimentality. His having a softer side was ridiculous, something to be mocked.

But he was willing to trade that for Matt.


	7. First Impressions

Matt was woken the next day at six by a somehow awake Mello. Honestly, sometimes he wondered if the guy was even human or not.

"Wozzit...?" Matt muttered sleepily, trying to fight the urge to close his eyes again.

"Time to get up! We have to work on the case today, remember?"

Matt did remember, unfortunately.

"Five more minutes," he murmured, rolling over and burying his head in the ridiculously comfortable pillow.

"No, get up now," Mello demanded, looking scary.

Matt ignored him.

Of course, he had to get up immediately when Mello decided to sit down heavily on his crotch. Getting dressed was an agonising experience, but he managed it, somehow, after kicking an ogling Mello out of the room.

The two walked down the corridors Mello had memorised the very first time they were shown to their floor by Halle, leading them to Near's workroom.

Not bothering to knock, Mello dramatically kicked the door open and said, "So, what's this case about then, Sheep?"

"Good morning to Mello too," Near said evenly. He looked at Matt. "Good morning, did Matt sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks!" Matt beamed. He had no idea what Mello (and himself, at times) had been going on about; apart from being slightly odd (and sometimes irritating), Near was a pretty decent guy.

"Can we _please_ skip all this courtesy shit? I want to know what's stumped you about this case!" Mello complained, charming as always.

Near held up a pale hand. "Mello will have to be patient. We must first wait for the others involved in the investigation to arrive."

Mello wrinkled his nose. "Others?"

Near nodded, obviously not willing to give out any more details.

Matt cleared his throat nervously. "Um...I haven't really worked on any detective mystery stuff before...what exactly am I supposed to do?" To be honest, he had no idea why Near recruited his help; they'd never met each other before in their lives.

"Matt will be required to gather information through technological means," Near explained, "I trust he can get through a high security firewall?"

Matt snorted. "Of course, what do you take me for?" Hacking was one of the few things he was proud of.

Near seemed to be about to reply when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," he said instead.

A man in his mid-forties, Mello guessed, poked his head around the door. "Our guests from Japan have arrived, sir," he announced.

Near inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I see. Show them in, please, Rester."

"Yes sir." The man retracted his head, only for the door to open fully a few moments later. "L and Yagami Light, sir."

"My gratitude. Rester may take his leave now."

"Yes, sir."

Matt was too busy staring at the pair that had just entered to fully soak in the last part of the conversation. One of them seemed completely normal – brown hair and crisp clothes – while the other...did not.

He had the most appalling posture Matt had seen in his life, and bags under his eyes that were so dark they appeared to have been tattooed there. His hair was dishevelled, like the last time it had seen a brush was before birth, and his clothes weren't much better.

And yet, the normal-looking guy was walking slightly behind The Weirdo, as if he respected him. Which meant The Weirdo was in charge. Brilliant.

"Good morning, Near, Mello," The Weirdo greeted them, nodding at each in turn. Near nodded back, but Mello just stared in disbelief.

"...L?" the blond finally managed to choke out, eyes still wide as a bushbaby's.

"It is nice to see you again, Mello," The Weirdo smiled, scarring Matt deeply. "You have grown."

That caught Matt's attention. How long had Mello known this freak?

Mello surprised Matt even further by breaking out into a huge grin. "You haven't, but it's nice to see you too!" The blond looked happier than Matt had ever seen him.

Matt pretended that didn't hurt.

Face returning to its customary scowl, Mello shifted his gaze to L's company. "Who's this?" he asked, forgoing manners, as per usual.

The youth opened his mouth to reply, but L beat him to it. "This is Yagami Light, my ward. I was assigned to psychoanalyse him due to a crime he was accused of committing. Though he was proven innocent, I deemed him not fully mentally stable, and have been charged with the responsibility of him since."

Yagami Light scowled at him. "You didn't have to give out that much information," he grumbled, put out.

L shrugged. "You or I were going to have to tell them eventually, Light-kun."

Light sighed, muttering something in what Matt recognised as Japanese (it sounded basically the same as what Mello had yammered over the phone to Near). Now he remembered, the Rester guy had said they were from Japan. L didn't have an accent in the slightest, but Light had a very gentle lilt to his voice, a slight softening of consonants suggesting that he wasn't a native English speaker. Matt found it quite pleasant.

"I may as well do the introductions," L said, looking distinctly bored at the prospect. "Light-kun, these are Near and Mello, whom I tutored until they turned thirteen, and this is..." he trailed off, looking at Matt. "...someone I do not know," he finished frankly.

"I'm Matt," Matt told them, "Mello's...friend?" he suggested hesitantly, looking at the blond. Mello just shrugged.

"I see," L said, "It is nice to meet you, Matt-kun."

Matt's brow wrinkled at the odd sound attached to the end of his name. Before he could open his mouth to mention it, though, Mello chipped in.

"It's an honorific, Matt," the blond explained.

Matt nodded, though he didn't really get it. "What's the translation?" he asked.

There was a silence, in which Matt could practically see the hi-tech cogs working in Near, Mello and L's heads. "I do not believe there is one in the English language," Near said finally.

Matt shrugged. "Fine, never mind. I was just curious."

"Do you not speak Japanese?" Light inquired. Matt shook his head. "I see," Light said, nodding slightly. Matt had the horrible feeling he was being labelled as a lesser mentally-developed being.

"So why did you bring this guy into the investigation anyway, L?" Mello asked, seeming slightly irritated by Light's presence.

L's expression didn't change in the slightest. "I do not believe it advisable to leave Light-kun to his own devices," he explained, "and besides that, he is highly intelligent, almost up to my own standard."

Mello raised his eyebrows, while Light rolled his eyes and declared, "I'm not a child," while trying to conceal his pride at being called clever.

Matt decided now was the time to ask questions. "So why did Near invite you to help with the investigation?" he asked, addressing L.

The strange man didn't answer, as Near did so for him. "L used to be a world-renowned detective, but retired from that particular job a few years ago. He is now a psychologist, who is hired to either analyse the mental health of criminals or provide them with a therapy prescription." Matt tried and failed to envisage L as one of those calming therapists he'd seen on TV a few times. Oblivious to his inner struggle, Near continued. "The case we are to be dealing with is proving to be highly difficult for me when I work alone, but the consequences will be enormous if it is not solved quickly. Therefore, I have enlisted the aid of anyone and everyone willing to help."

Matt nodded slowly, not quite getting it, but it was enough to go on.

Light eyed Matt curiously. "And what do you do? Are you also a detective?"

Mello snorted, quite rudely, Matt thought. But he had to admit, the idea of him being a detective _was_ quite funny. "Nah, I'm a hacker."

This seemed to out an end to any further introductory discussions, and Mello got right back down to business. "So, what _is_ this oh-so-secret case, then?" he demanded, his curiously evidently killing him.

Near flicked a switch, sending all ten of the huge monitors around the room humming into life. Matt tried not to drool.

"I have named this case the Jouka Case," Near started, causing everyone except Matt to frown in worry and confusion.

"Do you mean in English or Japanese?" L asked.

"Both," Near declared.

Matt decided he was lost. "What?"

Mello huffed in exasperation. "Do you know what the word 'joker' in English means, Matt?" he asked patronisingly.

Matt only glowered at him. "Yes. Like a court jester, right?"

"Right. 'Jouka' in Japanese could either be their pronunciation of 'joker', or, if you use the kanji, 'purification'."

Matt blinked.

"Do you get it?"

"...Yes?"

"Okay, great. Why would it be both, Near?" Mello addressed the boy.

In answer, Near clicked a button on a keyboard. On a screen directly in front of them, a picture of a small note appeared.

"This case involves the abduction of children from the ages of fourteen to seventeen. Each time a child is kidnapped, a note identical to this one is found the following morning in the family's letterbox." Near zoomed in on the picture so they could read the typed text.

" _We have taken your child through sleight of hand for cleansing,"_ was the simple sentence. Underneath the single line was an obviously photocopied picture of a crudely-drawn jester's hat.

There was a short silence, which was promptly broken by Light. "That's disgusting," he proclaimed.

"Light-kun, I have told you before to remain emotionally detached from cases. Calm yourself," L ordered quietly, though the obvious authority in the command was not undermined by the lack of volume.

Light looked at the floor and bit his lip.

Near's voice brought them back to the case at hand. "As you can see, this is a very worrying message. I am not entirely sure what is meant by 'cleansing', but I am ninety-seven percent certain that it is something unpleasant."

"I agree," said L. "And, of course, there is an obvious connection between the picture and the reference to sleight of hand."

Near nodded. "Yes, I have already deduced these things myself. However, I do not know the intentions of such actions, or the culprits."

"When did this start happening?" Mello asked, still apparently scanning the note for more clues.

"Approximately two months ago, with at least one child being taken per week," Near informed him.

Light drew in a sharp breath. "They're working fast."

"Indeed," Near agreed. "Which is all the more reason to put a stop to this as soon as possible."

"Have you checked the notes for fingerprints?" Matt asked, deciding to contribute.

Near nodded affirmation. "None of them had any traces of DNA or another element that could be used for identification. They were obviously handled with extreme care and precaution."

"Which means whoever's doing this knows their stuff," Mello deduced. "What do you suppose we do now, L?" he asked the dark-haired man, his look of admiration twisting Matt's insides in a highly confusing way.

L thought for a moment. "I would suggest we split into groups and perform different sections of the investigation separately, with fairly frequent meetings to discuss any clues. We will need a group to trawl through the information of the children's backgrounds, where they grew up, where they were last seen, etcetera, and search the internet for any clues of their whereabouts at the moment. Another group should dissect the notes in further detail to uncover any information, and a final group would need to investigate any organisations or individuals that could possibly be involved in this case," he listed.

"I'll do the computer work," Matt volunteered before anyone else could snag it. There was no way he was going to sit staring at a piece of paper for hours on end.

"Very well," L conceded. "Would you mind if Light-kun works with you?"

"Not at all," Matt said, grinning at the brunet, who gave him a small smile back.

"In that case, Mello, would you be able to work with me in analysing the letters, and Near, could you ask your employees to aid you in research of possible culprits, please?"

Both boys nodded, setting off to do what was needed immediately.

 _Jeez,_ Matt thought, _he hasn't been here ten minutes and L's already taking charge of this case. He must have been a damn good detective._

"Ready to work?" Light's voice snapped Matt out of his musings.

The redhead nodded, marching over to a random computer. "May as well work here," he articulated, shrugging.

Light only dragged a chair up to the next monitor and switched it on.

Matt followed suit, resigning himself to a day of utter boredom.

* * *

After two short breaks and a longer lunch, punctuated by research, Matt's eyes were in danger of handing in their notice out of fatigue. He glanced over at his work-buddy to see how he was getting on, and saw Light practically snoring in front of the screen.

"This is ridiculous," Matt said, standing up suddenly, "Let's take a break, we can't work like this."

Light rose quickly and followed the redhead eagerly out of the investigation room to get coffee. Their route led them past Mello and L's workspace, where the two genii were discussing possible hypotheses on which bits of the note could mean what. Matt personally had no clue how they'd managed to go eight hours without exhausting the topic.

When the two reached the kitchen, Matt made a beeline for the coffee machine. It seemed he was going to be living off caffeine until the investigation was over.

While waiting for the machine to finish making his consciousness, Matt decided to try and chat with Light.

"Have you been to England before?" he asked amiably, finding two mugs and a little carton of milk.

Light shook his head. "No, this is my first time. It's not...it's not really as I expected," he admitted.

Matt laughed. "Yeah, despite the common stereotype, we don't actually have cream teas that often. Although, granted, this isn't really a part of Britain that's normally shown in the movies."

"Is London similar to how it's portrayed?" Light asked, honestly curious.

Matt thought. "Uh...well, the posh end is pretty much what you're thinking, probably. But more grimy. They don't show the rough end of London much in films, though, or the proximity of high and low class. I don't go to the city a lot, but seriously, one second you're on the high street, and the next you've turned down the corner into sleaze-town. It's a bit overwhelming," Matt recalled from his few-and-far-between trips to the capital.

Light nodded. "It is the same with large cities in Japan, such as Tokyo. It makes sense, now I think about it."

"So, where do you come from in Japan?" Matt asked, though he knew he wouldn't have a clue what the brunet was talking about when he answered.

"I lived with my family in the Kanto Region before L took custody of me," Light told him, affirming Matt's prediction about his lacking knowledge of Japanese geography.

"What's all that about, anyway? Why's L your guardian now?" Matt knew he was probably extremely close to crossing a line, but he was too curious to care.

Light hesitated. "Well...as L said, I was accused of a crime and sent to him for psychoanalysis. When I was proven innocent, L declared I wasn't mentally stable enough to be set loose on the public, and so he's taken charge of me until I turn eighteen."

Matt was confused. "You seem perfectly sane to me."

"Thank you," Light smiled wryly, "but L said it wasn't so much to do with my current sanity, but the chance that I'll 'snap' soon."

Matt tried not to be scared.

"Don't worry, if that was in danger of happening in the near future, L wouldn't have unlocked the –" Light broke off suddenly.

Matt narrowed his eyes. "Unlocked the what?"

Light ducked his head. "Initially, L mistrusted me so much that he deemed it necessary to watch me constantly."

"...And?" Matt prompted, sensing more to come.

"He chained us together for a few months," Light said evenly, not brusque, but frank.

Matt blinked. "That has _got_ to be a breach of human rights," he said finally.

Light shrugged. "L never really cared about those things. It wasn't so bad after a while. Just irritating at times."

Matt stared at the teenager, incredulous. "How old even _are_ you? The way you're talking is like a forty-year-old!"

Light laughed. "Should I take offence? I'm seventeen, though I always have been labelled mature for my age, even more so after the incident."

"Incident?"

"The crime I was accused of committing."

Matt hesitated, not wanted to overstep the boundaries too much. "You don't have to tell me all this if you don't want to," he assured the brunet.

Light made a humming noise in the back of his throat. "I know. But I'll have to tell you sometime, like L said earlier, so I may as well do it now. And telling you so much already has made me feel...lighter, in a sense. It's nice."

Matt shook his head slowly. "Fine, then. Go ahead, I'll try not to judge you."

Light shot him a grateful look. "I was accused of murdering my girlfriend."

There was a silence.

"But you didn't," Matt spoke up.

"No."

"...So who did?"

Light was silent, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Never mind," Matt said, "I can see it's a hard topic of discussion for you."

"Indeed."

Matt decided it was time for the awkward conversation to come to a close. Pouring coffee into the two mugs, he handed the milk and sugar to Light and told him to add as much as he wanted. The youth did so, forgoing the sugar completely, and after Matt spooned enough into his own mug for the both of them, the two went back to the investigation room, each equally certain that they had made a tentative new friend.

It was quite a nice feeling, they both decided.

* * *

"Have you made any new discoveries, Matt-kun and Light-kun?" L asked from his crouch on a chair, playing with a small sweet.

They both shook their heads. "Nothing of interest, really," Light said.

L nodded vaguely. "Mello and I have made some possible theories as to some alternate meanings of the note, but nothing is above ten percent in probability yet."

"I have only pinpointed a few large groups that could have been involved with the case, purely because they have been involved in illegal activity before," Near piped up.

L shifted his gaze to him. "Well, we may as well take a look."

Near handed a pile of papers over to the former detective.

"Let's see," L mused, "Vedox, Makarta, Glo, Hoax Group, Palm and Four-Field. Yes, I have heard these names before. Mello, you were involved in one of them yourself, were you not?" L asked the blond, who shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"Yeah, but I got kicked out," he informed the black-haired man.

"I was aware of that. During your stay with Palm, did you see anything that could have connected them to this case?"

Mello scowled. "If I had, I'd have told you. I didn't see anything relating to children or kidnapping at all; they were mainly involved in illegal arms dealing, and opium smuggling."

"As I thought," L agreed. "Well, we have been working for a long time now, and I understand Matt-kun and Light-kun could do with some rest." The redhead nodded fervently. "We will continue this investigation tomorrow; you may go."

* * *

After he and Mello had made it up to their shared floor, Matt collapsed on the sofa, completely wiped out.

"Gah! That was ridiculous! I thought I'd be used to staring at a computer for hours on end, but that was practically slave-driving. I'm surprised I'm not dead."

"You're gonna have to get used to it," was Mello's sympathetic reply.

Matt glared at him, but decided against retorting. "Got to know that Light kid a bit more. He's younger than he looks, you know?"

Mello didn't look interested. "Mm hm. Kid seems a bit odd to me."

Matt looked at him incredulously. "You work with _L_ all day and you say _Light's_ odd?!"

Mello shrugged. "I'm used to L."

"How long have you known him, anyway?" Matt inquired.

"Long enough."

"Which is...?"

"Jeez, pushy much. About fifteen years now."

Matt blinked. "That's a long time," he said quietly.

Mello glanced over at him. "Oh, come on, you're not jealous, are you?" Matt tried to deny the accusation, but was cut off. "I've known Near for that long too, and I hardly like him, right?"

"But you like L," Matt said, trying not to sound sulky.

Mello smirked. "Yeah, I do. But it's not like I hate you, Matt. You're different, always have been. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't have allowed Near to stick us on the same floor. Hell, I wouldn't even have agreed to live with you!"

Matt pondered. "I guess that makes sense. I wasn't jealous, though."

"Right, sure. Anyway, what about the Light guy? You two bezzies forever now?"

Matt snorted. "Hardly. But we get along."

"Careful, Matty, I might start getting envious." Mello smirked at him, leaning down to peck him on the cheek. "Good thing you're all mine, right?"

The blond didn't fail to notice and snicker at the sudden blush on Matt's cheeks as Mello left the room to go to sleep.


	8. Hypnophobia

Matt woke up with a start, his heart leaping into his throat.

Freezing momentarily at the still-unfamiliar surrounding, he lay stiff and still before the knowledge of where he was sank in.

Great, work again today: being woken up at two by a nightmare wasn't going to help his productivity.

Matt sat up, still jittery from his dream, and tried to recall the scenario he'd been graced with that night. He had nightmares fairly often, but could never seem to remember exactly what they were about, which annoyed him. He remembered something to do with oatmeal in the last one he'd had, but that wasn't very enlightening.

His dreams weren't even that scary, to be honest, just disturbing. A strange mixture of flashbacks and, well, _dreams_. What really irritated Matt was the fact that whatever dream he had, no matter how disturbing it was, he always knew what was going to happen before it did. It completely took the thrill of the dream away, but left his horror intact.

 _Even my subconscious is a sadistic bastard_ , Matt thought morosely, thinking again of his dream a few minutes earlier. He honestly couldn't remember _anything_ about this one, frustratingly. Just the emotions it left him with.

He was startled by the soft sound of his bedroom door being opened. Whipping his head around, he saw Mello standing in the dim opening.

"Matt?" the blond whispered, though for what reason the redhead was unsure: they were completely alone, after all.

"Yeah?" he answered, pushing his duvet off his legs so he could kneel on the mattress. "What is it?"

"Why are you awake? It's still early, we don't have work for a while."

"I know," Matt replied wearily, "Had a dream." He was loath to say 'nightmare', as that would imply he was scared of it, which he wasn't. Just disturbed.

Mello seemed to infer the meaning behind his words anyway. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, padding softly over to Matt's bedside.

Matt stared at the bare, athletic torso illuminated by the weak moonlight coming in from his window before answering, "Nah, I can't even remember it."

He couldn't look away from the undeniable subject of an oil painting in front of him.

Mello didn't seem to notice Matt's gazing, choosing instead to fix his eyes on Matt's hair, unkempt and messy from sleep, and unrestricted by his usual goggles.

"Your hair's so pretty in the moonlight, you know?" the blond murmured.

 _Like he can talk_ , Matt scoffed inwardly.

Mello distractedly ran a gentle hand through the russet locks, caressing Matt's face in a way that made his heart ache.

"My room's on the other side of the floor," Mello said softly, hand still buried in Matt's hair.

Matt failed to understand the significance of the tidbit of information. "And?" he prompted, equally quietly.

"And so I couldn't possibly have known you were awake," Mello told him.

Matt blinked. Mello was right. "So how...?"

Mello looked away, seeming to hesitate or a second. Then, he extracted his finger from Matt's hair and clambered onto the bed, lying down and pulling Matt with him. They were so close their breaths mingled with each other, Matt noticed, blushing a light pink that was indiscernible in the gloom.

Mello pulled the blankets around them, swaddling them both in their warmth. He closed his eyes.

"I want to sleep with you for a bit," he muttered, shifting slightly closer to the redhead.

Matt smiled warmly, the hint Mello was giving him finally sinking in.

It seemed neither of them were free from their nightly demons.

* * *

"I have come to a decision," L announced when they came down for work at eight. The strange man didn't look like he'd slept at all the night before, and if Light's haggard expression was anything to go by, the teenager hadn't either.

"What's the decision?" Mello asked, looking slightly more eager than Matt appreciated.

Near looked up too, prompting L to continue.

"I have decided to narrow the investigation down to three companies only," L stated, taking a bite out of his piece of chocolate cake.

"Huh?" Matt was lost. "Why?"

L elucidated. "Light-kun and I worked through the night, and have discovered that these particular three companies have connections to all the families the children were taken from."

Mello's eyes widened. "Which three?"

"Four-Field, Palm and Glo." L told him.

Mello grimaced at the mention of his former gang, digging a bar of chocolate out of his jacket pocket and snapping a bite off. It seemed the scent of L's cake had set off his cravings.

"What connection do the companies have to the victims?" Near inquired.

L looked at Light, prompting the exhausted-looking teenager to explain and allowing L to concentrate on a sickly-looking lollipop.

"Four-Field's more legal face is a company that sells magic props and equipment, clearly linking it to the reference to 'sleight of hand' in the note. However, it has additionally been connected to cases of fraud. Also, it has a branch shop near the residence of every child taken so far. Palm is involved with the selling of illegal weapons, and it appears pretty much all of the victims were in possession of some sort of armament traceable back to Palm. And Glo is not linked to the children specifically, but most of the families involved in the case have previously hired one of the electricians Glo provides. However, Glo is a major company, despite there being some previous issues in other countries with child exploitation, so this lead isn't as strong as the others," Light finished, making an effort to keep his eyes open after he'd finished talking.

Matt spoke up. "So, wait. If Four-Field's 'more legal' face is magic stuff, then what's its less legal face?"

"Drug dealing," Mello answered before Light could. The blond looked pissier thaon normal today, though whether due to the current topic or lack of sleep the night before, Matt was not sure. Maybe a combination of both.

"Does Mello know exactly what drugs Four-Field deal with?" Near asked, twisting a lock of his hair around and around his finger.

Mello scowled at him. "I'm not certain, but I'm fairly sure they trade opium a lot. That and heroin."

Near nodded. "I see."

"This is all highly useful information," L said, "Opium can be used as a sedative, can it not? It puts the user in a state of limbo between sleep and lucidity, am I right?"

Mello nodded curtly.

"So it could have been used to drug the kids and make them quieter!" Matt concluded, probably years after the rest of them, but proud of it anyway.

Light wrinkled his nose. "But those children would develop both a psychological and physiological dependence on the drug; it would ruin their lives."

"Which is why we must stop this crime before it gets too out of hand," L announced decisively. "So: Four-Field is our most probable suspect, with a likelihood of fifty-two percent to be the culprit. Palm is second, with forty-one, and Glo is very unlikely indeed at four percent. I think it would be prudent to drop that particular investigation in favour of the other two. Are we all agreed?"

They nodded silently.

"Excellent. Let's get to work."

* * *

Even though they had only known each other for a relatively short period of time, Matt and Light had very quickly become good friends. For Matt, who had never really had a true friend in all his life, it was an incredible breakthrough, and he was both grateful and admiring towards Light. The youth seemed to have such a charisma to him, a natural gravity that drew anyone and everyone towards him. You just couldn't _not_ like him.

However, despite the gratitude, Matt was also worried about the young brunet. Though outwardly he appeared to be a young adult in his last few teenage years, Light was...old. There was no other word to describe it. His eyes told of stories that few eighty-year-olds had ever been unfortunate enough to see, and his mentality was one of almost painful maturity. It was obvious to anyone that Yagami Light had grown up far too much, far too quickly.

Matt specifically noticed this when he managed to catch Light gazing at L, when the brunet thought no one else was looking. When he looked at the curious insomniac, Light's eyes would hold a pain, an anger and a resentment almost beyond Matt's comprehension. But it was not only that: his eyes also told of care, respect, and, if Matt's suspicions were right, _love_. And if they _were_ right, and Light _had_ fallen for the psychologist...Matt could only imagine the pain those feelings would cause. L was definitely straight and proper, if not asexual, and would almost certainly not acquiesce to becoming intimate with a minor, no matter if the odd man were in love with them himself or not: L had an unyielding sense of justice, and homosexual paedophilia probably didn't harmonise with it.

So, as Light's new (if tentative) friend, Matt vowed to try and help the brunet out of the pit of depression he was digging himself into. Matt knew only too well how it drained one to be trapped in what felt like one's own grave, with no ladder out. He would be Light's ladder, he decided. They were both fucked up, and fucked up people needed to help each other clamber out of the shithole they'd fallen into.

But before he tried to help Light with whatever complications the boy had with L, Matt first needed to know exactly what he was getting into.

So, in the signature way of the socially-inept redhead, Matt started out subtly. "What are your feelings towards L?"

Light's hands stuttered over the keyboard as the youth jerked violently in response to the question. The brunet turned to stare at Matt as if he was a dangerous animal. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

Matt noted down the reaction for later analysis. "Nothing serious, just stuff like what you see him as."

Light inclined his head in a way which perfectly conveyed the fact that he had no clue what the hacker was on about.

"Do you see him as a friend? A parental figure?" Matt prompted, abandoning his work in favour of his new-founded, much more riveting pastime.

Light hesitated. "I...I'm not sure. I respect him, greatly. L has a brilliant mind and always manages to see through people like water; though, granted, that can be a little trying at times." Light chuckled lightly, an expression of tranquil happiness coming over his face as he thought about the psychologist. "He also doesn't care what people think of him at all, he just does whatever he wants to do. In a way, I envy that: I've always been horribly self-conscious, and it'd be nice to just be able to... _let go_ of the worry of what people think of me. And I don't see him as a parental figure at all, but he is...authoritative. He doesn't often become strict, but he always seems to be able to snap me out of my moods, when I'm trapped in the past with my late girlfriend, in ways that I don't quite understand. He always calls on my pride, or my self-consciousness," Light laughed.

Matt nodded pensively. "So you like him?"

Light clicked his tongue. "Well...yes, I do like him, but...it's not as _pure_ as my like for other people. I hate some parts of him so much I can hardly bear it."

"What parts?"

"Well, he kept me away from my family, for a start. Still keeps me away from them. I haven't seen them in months, and I _know_ they're worried about me, but L won't let me even talk to them on the phone! I hate the part of him that's so controlling, that always has to be in charge. It antagonises me, I suppose because I like to be in charge as well," the youth admitted sheepishly. "Not to even mention those bloody handcuffs! And another part of L that I hate is that he doesn't trust me at all. Ever. He barely lets me out of his sight for more than two minutes; I was beyond surprised when he requested I work with you. You must have earned his respect so quickly," Light sounded almost resentful. "L sees me as a child, a sulky infant with anger management issues. And even ignoring the fact that it annoys me beyond belief, because I'm _not_ a child, it...it hurts." The last words barely come out as a whisper.

Matt regarded him softly, with sympathy, but not pity. Sympathy was good, it helped. Pity was bad, and Light had evidently had enough of being patronised.

"I can't say I understand, but I do get most of what you're saying," Matt told the brunet, leaning back in his chair.

"You feel basically the same towards Mello-san, am I right?" Light looked Matt directly in the eyes.

Matt nearly fell out of his chair. The kid was sharp!

 _But then he'd have to be, to be labelled a genius_ , Matt mentally 'duh'ed himself.

The serious look on Light's face morphed into one of gentle humour. "You possibly feel something else towards Mello-san, no?"

Matt flushed red. "Don't tease," he half-begged.

Light chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't. It's cute, which probably sounds ridiculous coming from someone two years younger than you, but it is."

Matt grimaced at being called 'cute'. "Whatever. It's hopeless as well, no matter how cute you think it is."

"No." Light shook his head. "No, I don't think it's hopeless. Remember, individuals are blind to half the things revolving around themselves that others can see plain as day."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Sure, kid. I'll have a chance with Mello when the Sun goes supernova."

Light smiled. "You'll see," he said smugly, before returning to his work.

Matt did the same, putting Light's convictions out of mind.

But the seed of hope had been planted.


	9. Pathogens

Almost three weeks since they had started the Jouka Case, Near, L and Light were impatiently waiting for Mello and Matt to finally arrive for work when Near's mobile phone rang.

The pale boy fished it out of his oversized pocket, flipped it open and stated, "Mello."

There was a short silence while Near listened to what Mello wanted to say. He then said, "I see, that is fine," and hung up.

Light looked at him expectantly, while L poked at his sundae.

"Mello and Matt will not be able to come to work today," Near told the pair, "It seems they have both come down with horrible colds."

"I fucking hate you," Mello growled through the tissue he was holding to his face. "The fuck did you have to give me your fucking cold?"

Matt looked at him apologetically, also finding it hard to breathe behind the tissue secured to his face. "Sorry," came the muffled reply.

Mello coughed a few times, before reinstating his glare at the redhead. "How the hell did you get it, anyway? We've been inside for the last however many days!"

Matt shrugged. "Asthma," he said simply, taking another puff of his inhaler just to make his point.

Mello didn't fall for it. "Sure. Asthma doesn't give you colds unless you're outside, dipshit; what have you been doing?"

Matt debated over not telling the blond, but decided he rather liked his head and would prefer to keep it, stuffed up or not. "I've been smoking on the balcony. It's not a full-time habit, but when I'm working hard I need it to help me relax."

Mello scowled. "You smoke?" At Matt's affirmative nod, he informed the redhead, "Smoking kills."

"Yeah, thanks, I knew that. My cigarette packet tells me every time I see it." Matt held up the small box, which, sure enough, had 'SMOKING KILLS' printed across it in bold black text. "Fucking annoying," Matt grumbled, "Like I don't know already."

Mello snorted. "If you're going to give yourself and others around you lung cancer, the least you could do is read two accusing words a few times a day."

"Shut up, Mello, I know it's not a good habit. At least I'm not doing crack, right?"

Mello thought about it. "I dunno. A high Matt could be quite fun to deal with." He grinned suggestively.

The redhead tutted and turned his head away to blow his nose. Resurfacing from the tissue he said, "Yeah, but it'd kill me twice as fast as smoking."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Matty-boy," Mello warned him, "Cancer's a bitch sometimes."

"So's diabetes."

"Quit with the chocolate digs!" Mello ordered, giving Matt his best poisonous glare.

"Why should I? You're going on about me smoking, when I don't even do it all the time, and you eat enough chocolate to put Willy Wonka out of business for good!"

"I do not!"

"You so do. I counted yesterday, while we were working on the case, and you ate seven bars of chocolate. _Seven_. Mello, that's gross." Matt told him frankly.

"You know, you're the first person who's ever dared to tell me anything like that to my face," Mello told him conversationally. "One would think that would imply you're either really brave or really stupid."

"I don't care which I am, both of them'll probably get me shot in the end."

"True."

"That wasn't what you were supposed to say, Mels."

Mello made to shrug, before he caught himself halfway and stared at the redhead. "What did you just call me?"

Matt froze. Shit. "Uh...Our Mello, who art in Heaven, incredible be thy name...?"

Mello laughed aloud, before he started choking on air and mucus. When he recovered, he said, "I'm not sure that'd be taken well by the more hardcore Christians, you know?"

"You say that like you're one of them," Matt pointed out cautiously.

Mello nodded, holding up the rosary that Matt had previously thought was only for decoration. "Catholic and proud, if not slightly less devout than most."

"Fuck," Matt announced. "I didn't offend _you_ , did I?"

"Nah," Mello said, "I'm not over-sensitive."

"Good," Matt enthused, relieved. Then, a frown furrowed his brow. "Wait...doesn't shooting a load of people in the head send you to Hell?"

Mello shrugged. "I didn't really have much chance of escaping Hell in the first place. Anyway, if there's no chocolate in Heaven, I'm not going."

Matt chuckled. "I can only imagine how serious you are about that."

"Quit it! And what did you call me already?!"

Matt gulped, suddenly sobering up. "Nothing, it just came out. Forget it, it was dumb."

Mello shook his head. "It didn't sound dumb, coming from you," he mused, half to himself, "It sounded...familiar. Friendly, like. No one's given me a nickname since I was – God, I dunno...five? Four? And that was with my real name anyway, so..."

So Mello had known all along what he had called him, Matt concluded. Bastard.

"What _is_ your real name?" he asked spontaneously, regretting it even before the words had finished exiting his mouth.

Mello raised an eyebrow. "You really think I'd tell you that easy? Tell you what, if you tell me yours, I'll think about telling you mine."

Matt immediately went on the defensive. "No way, my name's ridiculous."

"That'd make sense, seeing as you picked a boring-ass name as an alias," Mello shot back without hesitation. "Either way, personal shames aside, if you're going to call me a sappy pet name, you need one too."

Matt's skin crawled. He could only guess at what was coming.

"Mattykins?"

How had he known?

"Fuck off, Mello."

"Ha! Not so familiar now, are you? Matt-o?"

"That's so lame!"

"Matt-o Macho! C'mon, that's brilliant!"

Retching noises ensued, followed by choking and an actuation of an inhaler.

Still laughing at his friend's misfortune, Mello continued relentlessly. "Door-Matt? Matte-Black? Matthias?"

Matt had given up protesting now, and only waited patiently for it to end.

"Mattolio? Mattchstick? Mattster? Boy Toy?"

Matt couldn't take that one lying down. "What?! What connection does that one have to my name?"

"None at all," Mello informed him, still grinning from his previous torture. "But it's true anyway."

"I'm not your boy toy!"

"Well, you're awfully cuddly for someone who isn't. What are you then?" Suddenly, Mello's face was uncomfortably close.

Matt swallowed, turning his head away slightly.

Mello repeated himself. "What are you, then?"

"Nothing," Matt all but whispered, "I'm not anything like that."

Mello's face was dead serious now. Not intimidating, but there was no trace of previous humour left on the deceptively angelic face. "Matty, you do realise I'm only teasing you, right? I don't mean any of the things I say in situations like these."

Matt gulped. He knew all too well how smart Mello was, and someone that clever wouldn't have missed the alternate meaning to his words.

Though he was sure it wasn't a good idea to be sharing cold germs right now, Matt didn't protest as Mello clambered up onto the armchair Matt was resting on, half in the redhead's lap. The blond brushed his lips gently over Matt's forehead, before nuzzling into his neck and listening to the redhead's pulse.

They were asleep by eleven am.

* * *

Light was bored.

He hadn't known the strange, friendly boy called Matt for very long yet, but already, Light realised, the redhead was an irreplaceable part of his schedule. Right about now, Matt would be forcing Light into a coffee break, making sure the youth had a rest from staring at the bright computer screens for hours on end.

Not today, though. Light didn't resent the redhead for being ill, but rather hoped he'd get better soon so his workday wouldn't be so dull. Light knew that was selfish, but wasn't chivalrous enough to care.

It wasn't even the fact that Matt wasn't there that was making him so dissatisfied, but the fact that Light was alone. Light hadn't realised just how much L's constant presence had affected him: before, the youth would be perfectly happy to go a full day without holding a proper conversation with anyone, but now, after the strange psychologist had forced months and months of irritating small talk (that Light knew was just trying to catch him out, force him to admit a closely-kept secret) and awkward proximity (those bloody handcuffs couldn't have been _that_ necessary; L was out to make him as uncomfortable as possible, in order to make Light spill his guts quicker), Light was dependant on constant company.

Had that been L's plan all along?

It made Light angry, how L was always so calculating around him, how the psychologist never said anything to the youth that wasn't intended for investigation into his mind. Light knew very well that L didn't trust him as far as he could throw him (and though Light knew from experience that L had the meanest kick around, he also knew his upper body strength wasn't half as supreme), and the youth honestly wished he could say the same.

But no. L had made Light accustomed to him, comfortable with him, nearly. He honestly yearned to be able to despise his guardian, to distrust him, and yet Light knew that if L asked him to shoot himself through the skull and assured him he would be okay, he'd take the gun and do it. L was just...never wrong. So if L said he was crazy, he was crazy. If L said he couldn't be trusted, he couldn't. And Light _knew_ these things weren't true, _knew_ he wasn't insane or anywhere near it, and yet he was forced into doubting himself, second-guessing his own assurance, as if he believed L honestly knew more about him than Light himself did.

"Light-kun?"

Well, speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.

"I hate you." He just couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, even though he knew they weren't correct.

L didn't appear to be perturbed by this declaration of loathing. "I know," was his word-economical reply, making Light start. Did he actually hate L after all, then? "...but Near has discovered a lead."

Light got up, stretching and relishing the feeling of his spine straightening up into proper posture. If there was one thing he'd rather die than do, it was walk like L. "Let's see it, then."

Near was waiting for them at the main computer, twiddling a lock of his hair in an emotion as close to agitation as the boy could get.

"Light-kun may witness the evidence," Near stated, spinning his chair round and pressing a button on the keyboard.

Light squinted at the grainy security camera image, trying to make out the blurry images.

After the clip had run its course, Light looked at Near and L in confusion. "So?" he said.

L handed him a small notepad as an answer.

Light read through the contents hurriedly, his frown deepening as time went by.

As he finished reading, he looked up in alarm. "Play it again, please," he asked, his urgency not impairing his manners in the slightest.

Near obliged.

Light watched, eyes wide. He checked the notepad, then looked back at the screen. Then the notepad. Back to the screen.

"This is..." he breathed.


	10. Realisation

Mello shifted sleepily at the sound of his text tone, realised he was somehow in a random person's lap, and prepared to punch their lights out. Then he opened his eyes, and immediately uncurled his fist.

It wasn't just because Matt was stunning (in a lanky, freckled, geeky kind of way), but his expression when he was sleeping was just so _euphoric._ Sometimes the blond wished he could see into Matt's dreams (when they weren't nightmares, of course) just to see what made the redhead so happy. Or look so happy, anyway. It might just be the facelifting effects of constant goggle-wearing. He'd have liked to think it was dreams of Mello himself, but even the blond wasn't that conceited. Just because Matt liked his appearance did not mean he was ass over tits for him.

Remembering what had woken him up in the first place, Mello glanced around the room and located his phone, which was on the coffee table next to the armchair the two were sprawled in. Cursing inwardly, Mello tried to reach over for his mobile without waking the slumbering redhead, an endeavour which Mello realised was a failure as soon as Matt's hands tightened their purchase on the blond's waist. Matt opened his eyes slowly, and immediately snatched his hands away from Mello's torso as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Wha–? Sorry," he muttered drowsily, not making any effort whatsoever to further remove the blond from his person.

"It's alright," Mello assured him, taking the opportunity of Matt's consciousness to grab his phone off the table.

"Ugh," he said, reading the number.

"What is it?" Matt asked, not awake enough yet to be worried.

"Near."

Matt rolled his eyes.

Mello read the text; once, twice and again. He then looked up to stare at Matt.

The redhead shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "What have I done?"

"Nothing," Mello said, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement (and cold germs). "They've found a new lead!

* * *

Less than a minute later, they were in the investigation room, Matt severely out of breath.

"Mello, Matt," Near (sort of) greeted them.

"What's going on?!" Mello demanded, his voice slightly nasal, but looking ready for anything despite his 'horrible' cold.

Matt could only wish he felt the same. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

Near was sitting at a computer screen, swivelling idly on his chair, while L and Light stood off to the side, looking anxious (or Light did, anyway. L was just chewing his thumb slightly more viciously than normal).

The white-haired detective nodded at Mello, before passing him a small, black notepad. The blond flipped it open impatiently, tilting it so Matt could read it too.

 _'1: Shirt: casual, white, unbranded, some stains_ ,' it read in a messy scrawl, _'Trousers: Denim, dark blue, torn. Footwear: white trainers._

_2: Dress: pale pink, striped. Stockings: white. Shoes: black, patent leather._

_3: Shirt: white, stiff-collared, simple buttons. Jacket: grey – mid-shade, tailored...'_ And so it went on.

Mello was unimpressed. "And so? This is the description of what the victims were wearing when they were last seen, gathered during the police interview, right?"

"Correct," Near told him, "However, the lead is dependant on two parts of evidence." He pressed 'play' on the large computer screen.

Matt quickly recognised the tape as a CCTV recording that he'd stolen off one of the suspected company's systems. He wasn't sure which; he'd immediately passed them on to Near for analysis.

The footage seemed to show a man, face hidden, throwing rubbish down a garbage chute. Matt failed to see the significance.

"Fucking _hell_."

Apparently, though, Mello did.

"What?" Matt asked, confused. "I don't get it."

"Look at what he's throwing away, Matt," Mello told him.

Matt did so, squinting at the grainy, black and white video. It seemed to be bundles of screwed-up paper, or maybe fabric. Again, Matt failed to see the significance. However, it clicked when he saw the shoe.

_'Black, patent leather.'_

"...What the fuck? He's chucking the kids' clothes?!" Matt said, mildly disgusted. "What the hell happened to them?!"

"We do not know as of yet," L said, having walked over to join them in observing the camera footage, "But I can assure you that we will try our hardest to find out as soon as possible. This cannot be allowed to go on."

Mello was still staring at the screen, looking as if he had smelt something disgusting. "Well, I guess we know who the culprit is now. Let's fuck the perverted cunts over!"

L sighed. "Patience, Mello. This alone is not enough evidence to fully convict such a large company. We will need at least one other major clue to make certain they get their just desserts. However, it should not take much longer, now we know who to focus our efforts on."

Matt held up his hands in exasperation. "Hold it! You lost me again; which company's the culprit?"

"This footage was taken from one of the Four-Field warehouses," Near told him quietly.

"Right. Thank you. Now, let's fuck them over!"

"Did Matt not hear what L just told Mello? This alone would not fully convict a company with such influence as Four-Field. We will need to gather other evidence before we can be sure the courts will give the maximum penalty sentence," Near told the redhead.

Matt rolled his eyes. "But that's daft! Are the courts really that corrupt?!"

"A court is only as sound as its jury, and a jury is only as sound as the people who make it up," L quoted. "And there is a seventy percent chance that over half the jury will somehow be biased towards Four-Field. If we gather more evidence against them, we can be sure that there is no possible way for the jury to give a verdict other than guilty."

Matt supposed that made sense, but it made him angry anyway. "So what do we do now?" he asked, impatient for justice to prevail.

"We will have to begin extremely thorough checks on Four-Field," L said, "We will scout out their chain shops and office blocks, as well as research in detail their background."

"Right," Mello said, "I bag practical investigation. I'm sick to death of this place!" He sneezed, whether genuinely or only to prove his point, Matt didn't know.

"And I suppose you would like to work with the technology here again, Matt-kun?" L asked him.

Matt was about to accept when Mello butted in. "Nope, Matty's coming with me! He could do with the fresh air."

Matt decided not to argue. It was either work with computers or work with Mello: win/win.

"I shall do the background checks on Four-Field," Near announced, twiddling with his hair.

L nodded. "Light-kun and I will help you with that as well, then."

Light didn't say anything, but his expression worried Matt slightly. He decided to step in. "Hey, maybe Light could come with Mello and me? This is his first time in England, we could show him the sights!" Not that there _were_ many sights where they were, but hey.

"No, thank you, I do not think that will be possible." Matt blinked when he realised the words had not come from the teenager, but rather his guardian.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"I do not think it would be wise for Light-kun to be involved in practical investigation. Though he acts beyond his years, we must remember that he is only seventeen. The responsibility is too much."

Matt didn't think he should mention that he himself wasn't many years over seventeen. "But surely that wouldn't matter, as long as he's mentally mature enough to do it? He's way more 'grown-up' than I am, in that sense..." Matt trailed off as Light shot him a pleading look. It only took the redhead a few seconds to realise he wasn't asking him to talk some sense into L: he was begging him to _stop._

Matt shut up.

"As I said before, just because Light-kun acts so mature does not mean he actually is," L said bluntly. "Light-kun will be working with Near and myself with the background checks. It will also look less suspicious for you two to investigate Four-Field chain shops by yourselves."

There was an awkward silence.

"...Okay," Matt said weakly, realising L was looking to him for an answer.

"In that case," Near started in that ever-emotionless voice of his, "We shall start work in earnest tomorrow. We should all get sleep tonight, so as to be fully prepared for next morning."

Matt took that as his cue to leave, Mello following on his heels.

"Hey, what's up?" the blond called to him as they reached their designated floor.

Matt looked at him in incredulity. "What? Do you honestly not realise?"

"No," Mello admitted unashamedly.

Matt gaped at him for a second, before saying, "Doesn't it strike you as _slightly_ disturbing how L keeps such constant tabs on Light? It's like he's a prison guard or something; he barely lets him out of his sight!"

Mello shrugged. "It's not important."

"How is it not important?!" Matt was shocked at his insensitivity.

"Have you forgotten?" Mello asked him, not gently, but not cruelly either. "Light's not right in the head. L's a psychologist, and his caretaker; it's only natural for him to keep an eye on his patient."

Matt shook his head. "There is no one I've ever met before in my _life_ who's saner than Light."

"Well, that's your bad judgement then, isn't it?" Mello said, and this time it was definitely more towards a callous tone, "The kid's got a weird look in his eye, like he's suppressing something. It's only a matter of time 'til he snaps. L has to be there when that happens, otherwise people could get hurt. Do you understand, Matty?"

"No!" Matt cried, desperate. "Light's not mad! He's just a normal teenager with a sad story, like you or me, Mello, can't you see?!"

"And who told you about his 'sad story'?" Mello inquired.

"I...he did," Matt said, quietly this time, "Light told me."

"See? Trust me, Matt, L's been in this profession for years now, and even before, he was very skilled at seeing into people's minds."

"Are you telling me you'd trust L's opinion over everyone else's? Over mine? Are you saying he's infallible?!" Matt demanded, frustrated.

"He's as close as humanly possible," Mello said. "I can't remember a single time when L was proved wrong. Also, he only ever suspects people, accuses people, diagnoses people, whatever, when he's at least sixty percent sure what he's saying is true. Usually more. Come on, Matt, think of it without the emotional involvement: if you were a random person given two arguments, one from an officially-declared lunatic and the other from a world-renowned psychologist with years of experience under his belt, who would you trust more?" Mello asked.

Matt didn't answer, because he was certain Mello knew what he'd say anyway.

"That's what I thought," Mello said, proving Matt's suspicion, "Come on, let's eat and go to bed; we're going to need to sleep off this cold by tomorrow."

Matt followed the blond to the kitchen, seething about the unfairness of the world he lived in.


	11. Investigation

Mello and Matt were standing outside Near's headquarters, bundled up in scarves and coats to dissuade the freezing fingers of Winter's breath.

L was standing in front of them, hidden from the public eye (though there weren't any people around at that time in the morning anyway) by the wall he was standing next to. Predictably, Light was just behind him.

"The things to consider when investigating the chain-shops would be where the products were made, and by whom, if possible. It would also be helpful if you were to gather some information from the employees, but don't risk blowing your cover. For the office blocks, don't draw attention to yourselves, but try to find out the address of their main headquarters, and possibly the names of the main administrators of Four-Field. I wish you luck," L said, nodding and retreating back to the warmth of the building.

Matt sniffed, shivered, and buried his nose deeper into the collar of his coat, causing his breath to steam up his goggles. "Well, this sucks," he offered his opinion, "Why did we have to find that lead in January, of all months?!"

Mello shrugged. "At least it's not snowing."

Matt couldn't argue with that.

The blond set off down the road towards the centre of the city, where all the shops were located. Matt hurried after him, shoving his fingers inside his pockets.

"Why didn't we take the car?" the redhead asked through his chattering teeth.

Mello shrugged again, not looking cold at all, which bothered Matt more than he'd like to admit. "A red Chevrolet's a bit conspicuous, don't you think? We're supposed to be undercover."

"I suppose I can understand that," Matt relented. "But couldn't we have waited for the afternoon, when it's warmer, at least?"

"We need to work as soon as possible for as long as possible," was Mello's determined answer.

"The shops won't even be open yet, it's only half seven!"

"We're getting breakfast first."

Matt blinked, surprised. "Why can't we just eat at home?"

"Food's nicer out, and Near's given us an unlimited credit card for today," Mello grinned evilly, before turning to look at the redhead curiously. "And I'm startled that you think of our floor as 'home' already. That was fast, seeing as you only left your old apartment about a month ago."

Matt blushed lightly, though thankfully it was mainly hidden by his collar. "I...don't really know why I feel so comfortable already. It's probably because I'm living with someone now," he admitted bashfully, lowering his eyes behind orange lenses.

Mello smiled, stunning Matt with how relaxed and _normal_ the blond looked (except for the scar, of course) when he had a gentle expression. "Like I needed that ego stroke. I guess you should know I feel more at home with you than I have in a long time, as well."

This time, Matt's blush was definitely noticeable, and the redhead tried to hide his pink cheeks behind his still-insane bedhead.

Mello pushed the fiery locks away from his friend's face, his smile widening. "Don't hide your face, you're too sweet," he said, chuckling lightly. "If slightly retarded."

And there Matt had been wondering where the real Mello had gone.

"Don't call me retarded!" he scolded, smacking Mello lightly on the head.

The blond only laughed and skipped (masculinely, of course) to the other side of the pavement.

The rest of their walk to the town centre was much the same, the only event worthy of note being when Mello planted a sloppy kiss on Matt's cheek to see exactly how crimson he'd turn.

When they reached the restaurant that was apparently their destination, it was nearing eight o'clock, and they only had to wait ten minutes until the place opened.

Walking inside, Matt relished the feeling of warm air caressing his face, and shed his coat. Mello unwound the scarf from around his neck, then tugged harshly on the end of Matt's own scarf, whipping it off and probably giving the redhead friction burns in the process.

As there wasn't anyone else in the establishment apart from them, they could choose where they wanted to sit before the crowds invaded the building. Mello chose a fairly secluded table, that couldn't really be seen from outside and was in an obscure enough corner that they wouldn't be very noticeable from inside either.

"Now we can talk about whatever the hell we want," Mello explained as they sat down and picked up the breakfast menus. "Oh, and by the way, choose the most expensive thing you can find. I'm not wasting this opportunity to spend Near's money."

Matt rolled his eyes. Typical Mello. Ignoring the blond's command, the redhead scanned the card for a breakfast that he would actually enjoy, regardless of the price it cost. Finding something, he turned the menu over to check out the coffee section.

Mello appeared to have already chosen, and placed his menu down, looking smug. When the waitress, a short, shy brunette, came over to take their orders, Mello placed his first: "I'll have the stuffed French toast with bacon," he said, looking nonchalant, "and a hot chocolate."

The waitress scribbled in her notepad before looking up again. "Would you like cream with the hot chocolate?"

Mello's grin reminded Matt vaguely of Lewis Carroll's Cheshire Cat. "Whyever not?"

Looking slightly worried, but not too disturbed, the girl turned to Matt. "And you, sir?"

"Scrambled eggs and bacon, and a cappuccino, please." Matt gave Mello a meaningful look as he placed his order. The blond just beamed at him.

As the waitress walked away, Matt sighed and said, "You'd better eat all of that now. And what the hell is stuffed French toast anyway?"

"No idea, but it was pricey." Mello smirked, crossing his leather-clad legs.

Matt shook his head pityingly. "You need a life. Getting a kick out of spending someone else's money is not cool."

Mello waved him off. "Don't give a flying fuck; it's fun."

Matt gave up and waited for his food to arrive.

When it finally did so, Matt inhaled the breakfast in less than five minutes, chugging down the coffee in one gulp afterwards.

"Ah, I needed that!" he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach, feeling warm and full up. He then looked surreptitiously at Mello, to see how the blond was tackling his breakfast. Because that wasn't stalker-ish at _all_.

Mello wasn't eating elegantly, per se, but his movements had a natural grace to them that was impossible to imitate. He seemed to be enjoying his breakfast, which Matt was grateful for, as the blond was most certainly not above ordering a completely different one as well if the first wasn't to his taste.

As he watched Mello, Matt wondered exactly why he was so dependant upon the blond's presence, and had been right from the start. When they had first 'met', though perhaps that wasn't quite the right verb, Matt had felt a spark, a connection that drew him to Mello like a Suicide Bunny to its ultimate demise. When Mello had left, he'd felt empty, as if the blond had taken the large majority of Matt's entrails with him. And when he'd come back, when he'd told Matt he'd be staying "indefinitely"...

"You're staring, you know?" Mello glanced up at him humorously, smiling teasingly. "You like what you see?"

 _More than either you or I would like to admit_ , Matt thought. Out loud, he said, "Your ego has never deflated beyond the 'I Am Superman' point, has it?"

Mello chuckled, stirring his hot chocolate idly and brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "Nope."

Matt made a show of laughing too, but inwardly, his stomach curled in dread. He'd never felt romantic love before, only a few silly childhood crushes, and as such, he had no idea what it felt _like_.

But he knew what he felt for Mello wasn't nothing.

And he knew Mello thought it was.

And he knew Mello didn't feel it back.

 _Well, fuck_ , Matt though articulately.

* * *

Entering the joke/magic store run by Four-Field, Matt was more nervous than logic required. No one would suspect them of foul play here, and by the appearance of the bubblegum-blowing sales assistant, no one was clever enough to do so anyway.

And yet, Matt's heart was pounding like a tom-tom, and he kept glancing nervously at the security camera positioned in the corner of the shop.

"Stop looking like a fugitive," Mello hissed, gripping his elbow in a vice-like hold, "You're a hacker, for God's sake, if you're that worried, you can erase the footage afterwards."

"I know," Matt whispered back, trying to loosen Mello's grasp before his lower arm turned black from lack of circulation. The blond just switched to crushing his hand instead.

Trying to ignore the assistant, who was currently giving them the Those-Two-Customers-Are-Holding-Hands-OMG-NO-WAY look, Matt looked around for an information poster, or an advert, or anything that could give them hints as to where the products in the store had been made.

He was, to say the least, surprised when Mello instead dragged him over to look at display of whoopee cushions.

"Uh, Mels...?" he said quietly, frowning and wondering what horrible prank the blond was cooking up to torture Near with _now_.

"Check the information on the back of the packaging, idiot!" Mello rolled his eyes, swatting the redhead's arm lightly.

Matt obliged, cursing himself for not thinking of the idea in the first place. On the back of the small box was printed a cleverly-worded advertisement with the purpose of emptying the pockets of Four-Field's victims even more, as well as a short safety warning in small print. Turning the object to look at the side, Matt saw the words _Made in China_.

"Well, that's helpful."

Mello narrowed his eyes and snatched the box from him, scouring the text for any clues as to how the product was made and whether the process by any chance included kidnapped-child labour.

There weren't any clues, it appeared, as the blond threw down the box with a distasteful look in his eye.

"Uh, like, can I help you?" came a voice behind them.

Matt had to make a conscious effort not to jump out of his _fucking_ skin.

They turned to face the sales assistant, Matt's face safely blank, and Mello's nonchalant.

"Nah, we're fine," Mello told her, waving his hand that wasn't attached to Matt vaguely in the air.

"You sure?" she said, blowing another bubble and letting it pop in their faces, spraying them with sugar-infused saliva.

"Yup." Mello's voice was strained, as is he was having a hard time not strangling the damn woman to death. Matt could sympathise.

"Okay, then." The annoyance thankfully sauntered away, checking her nails for any chips in her gaudy varnish.

Matt and Mello looked at each other, rolled their eyes and did over-exaggerated impressions of the woman, including tottering around on imaginary heels as high as a heroin addict, chewing noisily on non-existent gum, and drawling fake offers of help in what Matt had fondly christened The Chav Speak.

Realising she could still hear them, they decided it was time to go.

"That didn't go well," Matt decided as they beat their hasty retreat down the road.

"No, it didn't," Mello agreed, slowing down and finally letting go of Matt's hand, much to the redhead's disappointment. "Let's try the office blocks next."

"Yuck." Matt wrinkled his nose. He'd always detested office blocks, or any professional environment, really. They gave him indigestion.

"Cheer up, if we don't find anything there, we can spend the rest of the day as we please," Mello promised him, his eye-roll not taking away from the pure _cuteness_ (though Matt would never say it to Mello's face) of his offer.

"Really?"

"Really really."

"What happened to the whole 'we need to work as long as possible' thing?"

"I got bored."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"So you're saying there's absolutely no way you can give us the names of your big bosses?" Mello repeated confrontationally, leaning over the desk of a rather nervous-looking receptionist.

"That's right, sir, I'm afraid it's confidential information," the slight man affirmed, not budging in the slightest, despite the way he kept glancing worriedly at Mello's hands as if he expected the blond to suddenly pull a gun on him. Which was completely ridiculous, of course.

"Well, that's disappointing," Mello narrowed his eyes threateningly, the enormous scar on his face making him look even more nightmare-ish.

The man gulped, obviously not expecting to live much longer.

Matt contemplated placing a restraining hand on Mello's shoulder, but decided he liked his arm the right way round.

"Come on, Matt, let's go." Mello turned around and stormed out, surprising everyone (though receptionist looked relieved as well).

Matt hurried after the blond, not looking back as the poor man behind him loosened his tie and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Uh, Mels?" he started apprehensively.

"What?"

"What about L's advice of not drawing attention to ourselves? That was a bit conspicuous, even if it was only the receptionist guy you were terrifying," Matt understated.

Mello shrugged. "Sometimes being inconspicuous doesn't always bring results," he said.

"That didn't either," Matt pointed out.

Mello glared at him. "You will not mention that around me ever again."

"Yessir. But now we'll have to be ready for the fallout from that little..." Matt searched the dusty corners of his mind for the right word, "...incident there."

"Why?"

Matt blinked. "Well, he'll report us, won't he? And then they'll check the security tapes, and see our faces."

Mello shook his head. "Nah, he won't report us, but you'd better erase the CCTV footage just in case."

"Why wouldn't he report us? That was verbal harassment, he'd be well in his rights."

"He carried himself like he was the king of the world, much too proud for his own good. Admitting to being threatened would hurt his ego. Also, he was scared stiff of me, and won't want an excuse for me to...visit him again." Mello grinned evilly.

Matt eyed him. "You are one scary Mafia boss, you know?"

Mello snorted. "Hardly, I wasn't even the boss. But I called enough of the shots to be, I'll admit."

"I can believe that," Matt said, not sure himself whether he was teasing Mello or serious. Probably serious, now he thought about it.

"Anyhow, we have the address of the HQ now, so it wasn't a complete failure," Mello told him smugly, his smirk only growing when Matt shot him a stunned look.

"We do? But you never even asked about the headquarters!" Matt admitted 'asked' probably wasn't a very accurate choice of wording.

Mello put on an all-knowing expression. "No, but when I was...discussing the finer points of confidentiality with the receptionist, I found the little card with all the phone numbers and addresses of the different office blocks on his desk. HQ is on West Avenue, number eighty-four."

Matt frowned. "In this city?" he asked.

"Yup."

"But why? We're hardly in London. Why would it make sense to have the base of all company operations in a run-down city like this?"

Mello shrugged. "No idea, but it might be a clue. All the kids that disappeared lived in this city, right?"

Matt blinked. "That's true. Well, it's pretty certain that Four-Field's the culprit, right? Now it's just a matter of finding concrete evidence."

"Yeah, I guess." For some reason, Mello didn't seem as confident as he was with everything else in life.

"What is it?" Matt asked, wondering whether he really wanted to know.

Mello sighed. "I dunno. It just seems like this shouldn't be so simple. I mean, if it is Four-Field, they've left some pretty huge holes in their planning, and I can't really see their motive despite the cheap labour. It'd be a big company gamble, with more at stake than they'd probably get out of it. Something just doesn't seem right."

Matt winced. Yup, he definitely had not wanted to know. "Isn't it a good thing that it's simple? The sooner this is over, the sooner we get to live a more normal life, right?"

Mello looked at him patronisingly. "You think I look like I could ever be normal?"

"I didn't say _we'd_ be normal, I said we could live a more normal life." Matt pouted, put out.

Mello ruffled his hair. "I didn't mean it like that. Of course I'd like to live with you without the stress of a kidnapping case over our heads-" Matt blushed violently for no reason, "...but we can't just do this half-assed. The bastards at the bottom of this are fucked up and they need to be stopped; we have to do it properly, and as quickly as possible."

Matt nodded reluctantly. "I know, I know...but we're all so sure about it being Four-Field, even L. According to you, he's pretty much infallible, right? And who else could it be, anyway?"

"I agree. But we could have missed something, maybe some other company who's new to the underworld. The kidnappings couldn't have been carried out by an individual, but maybe a fairly small group? There are so many other options, and it just seems like this is too easy to be true." Mello frowned.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Come on, you'll give yourself a brain haemorrhage thinking too hard about this. That's Near's and L's job, right?" he joked.

Mello didn't smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked at the redhead. "Yeah, you're right. Come on, let's go get lunch."

"At three?"

"A late lunch, then."

"What if I'm not hungry?"

"I'll eat yours. All those threats and slutty shop assistants have worked me up an appetite."

"Of course..."

* * *

When Mello and Matt returned to Near's building, it was five and completely pitch-black. Daylight saving was a fucking waste of time, Matt observed.

"Greetings, Mello, Matt," Near called to them from the simple metal table in the centre of the room. L was on his right, with Light just next to the psychologist.

"Yo, Near," Matt greeted cheerfully. "Hey Light. L," he said, his smile fading slightly.

The latter two returned his salutations with deep nods of their heads, which Matt passed off as some Japanese custom thing.

"Did you find anything?" Mello asked L, slumping down into a chair and propping his feet up on its neighbour.

Matt was sitting down in the chair next to Light (which just so happened to be on the other side of Mello as well) when L answered. "Yes, we did. It's nothing too serious, but Four-Field has previously been charged with child exploitation in the production of their items. None of the cases resulted in Four-Field being proclaimed guilty, but it does strengthen my suspicion of them by eleven percent."

"That little?" Matt frowned, confused. He was pretty much certain Four-Field was guilty of this particular crime. "That would only take it up to about seventy-five percent, right?"

"Seventy-eight, Matt-kun," L correctly patiently, dropping another sugar cube into his tea. "And an eleven percent increase is remarkably high for me, as I'm sure Light-kun will tell you."

They all turned to stare at Light quizzically, who looked uncomfortable. "It's a long story," the youth said quietly, effectively avoiding the question present in all of their eyes.

Mello looked irritated, but didn't push it. "Whatever. Me and Matt found out the address of the main headquarters of Four-Field, anyway."

 _You mean_ you _did_ , Matt corrected him mentally.

"Ah, that's very good." Matt was slightly disturbed to see a smile appear on L's face, but supposed he might be capable of some emotion after all. When he thought about it, it was quite strange that L had become a psychologist; maybe the fact that L seemed to be so far out of touch with his own emotions helped him to see others' that much more clearly.

"Yeah, it's on West Street." Mello's voice brought Matt back to the matter at hand. "Eighty-four."

"I see, that is convenient. Well then, Mello will be able to investigate there tomorrow," Near said, without any trace of emotion in his voice whatsoever.

Matt groaned. "Really? I don't think I can survive another day of traipsing around the city so soon. At least let us take the car."

"Matt's concern is unnecessary; he will not be accompanying Mello," Near informed him.

"Excuse me, what?"

"Mello is much more used to such missions, and this one is too crucial to risk jeopardising. Also, it will be much less noticeable to have one operative in the building. Matt will help Light-kun with the technical work."

Matt was speechless. He was going to stay in a high-security, top-secret building while Mello went out into the dangerous world of criminals and kidnappings? This had to be some kind of joke.

"It makes sense, Matt, you're much better at computer stuff than practical work," Mello said, not looking as if he cared at all about their being separated for the first entire day in what felt like centuries.

Matt suddenly felt the urge to curl up in an unwanted ball and disappear. He supposed it showed on his face, as L leaned forward with a calculating expression on his face.

"Are you upset at the fact that you will be apart from Mello when he is in such an unsafe position, Matt-kun?" the psychologist asked, though the dark-haired man probably knew as well as Matt did that it was much too accurate to be a proper question.

As such, Matt didn't bother answering, instead lowering his head to avoid Mello's piercing stare.

"I can assure you that Mello will be perfectly fine," L said, in such a tone of voice that even the most sceptical of people could not defy. "He is very experienced in this field of work, and even more experienced at shooting people if things do not go to plan. Am I right, Mello?"

Mello smirked. "As always."

Matt was only partially reassured, but the worries soon left his mind (along with all of his other coherent thoughts) as Mello took his hand under the table and whispered, "We'll talk after all this," in his ear, his lips just barely brushing Matt's earlobe.

Matt pretended that he wasn't turned on by the sensation.

Not that he needed to pretend.

At all.

"In the meantime, I suggest we wind down," L said, taking a sip of tea-flavoured sugar that didn't look like it'd help _anyone_ wind down. "It's been a long day, and we need to be firing on all cylinders tomorrow."

Matt agreed fervently, noting that Light looked relieved as well.

"We shall meet in this room at seven-thirty tomorrow morning, then. Good evening," L nodded to each of them in turn, and Matt took that as his cue to leave.

When he and Mello reached their floor, the blond caught Matt's wrist lightly in his hand and led him over to the sofa, where he gently forced (if that was possible) Matt to sit.

"So what was all that about just now?" Mello asked, tipping his head to the side inquisitively.

Matt flushed slightly, averting his eyes. He decided to get straight to the point, as it was never wise to fuck around with Mello. "I know this is going to make me sound like some clingy dweeb, but I don't like the idea of being away from you for an entire day, when you're going to be right in the lion's mouth. We've only lived together for a month, but _God,_ Mello, it feels like I've known you for my entire life! I know you probably don't see me the same way, but you're one of, if not the most important person in my life..." Matt trailed off as he realised he sounded completely insane. "What I mean is...I don't want to lose you, Mels." His voice broke on the pet name. "And if I have to, then I want to be with you right at the very end."

He didn't dare to look up at Mello, whom he was sure was about to either refer him to L for some serious counselling or shoot him through the skull.

"You're an idiot, Matt."

He flinched.

A tender hand entwined itself with his hair. "And I'm an even bigger one," Mello said, tilting Matt's head upwards and allowing him to witness the overwhelmingly gentle smile on the blond's face.

Mello sat down next to the redhead, not breaking eye-contact. "I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that I have some serious trust issues," Mello said, and he was right: Matt had noticed. "It's been a long time since I've even considered trusting someone enough to get as close to them as I have to you, and I swear, Matty, I'd trust you with my life. I don't even know the reason, that's why I'm such a moron. I feel the same way about all you just said; I don't want to lose you either. Ever. But we're not going to lose each other through this. There ain't a snowball's chance in Hell that I'll even get arrested, let alone killed, so just trust me on this one, okay, Matty? You can watch me on the security cameras if you're that worried."

Matt nodded silently, not trusting himself not to break down in tears if he tried to speak.

He may as well not have bothered; he started bawling like a baby anyway when Mello drew him into the warmest and most comforting hug he'd ever experienced.

"Thank you, Mels," he managed through the sobs, clutching at Mello's jacket as if it was a lifeline.

Mello pressed a kiss to the top of his head and whispered, "No, thank _you_. But don't tell anyone about this, okay? It's critical that I keep up my badass reputation."

 _Trust Mello_ , Matt thought. Only the blond had the ability to make him laugh and cry at once.


	12. Infiltration

It didn't take a genius to work out that Matt was distressed.

Despite the lack of necessity, however, Light _was_ a genius, and therefore able to analyse the symptoms of Matt's worry in that much more detail.

The redhead was biting his lip, clenching and unclenching his hands (he'd completely given up on the pointless filler work L had set them), and periodically running said hands through his hair. His face was pale (or paler than usual, anyhow) and though there was not any sheen of sweat over his skin, he definitely did not look healthy.

And, a fact that only made the situation more ridiculous, all this was only serving to make Light worried as well. Matt was the closest thing the youth had ever been able to call a friend, though they had technically not known each other for very long, and Light did care for him. However, even this concern could not take away from what Light deemed to be the utter insensibility of Matt's cause of worry.

Mello-san, though he was a bit hot-headed, was perfectly capable of thinking through a situation calmly and forming wise decisions based on his assessments. He was used to sneaking into much more closely-guarded buildings than this one, and was armed anyway.

All in all, Matt was being an idiot for worrying about Mello-san's infiltration of Four-Field's main headquarters.

And yet, Light could understand part of what Matt was feeling and why. He had also felt irrational and unexplainable feelings in his time, such as unfounded fear of the visions his subconscious provided him every time he closed his eyes, the irritation towards himself for reasons even he did not know, and, more prominently, the strange mixture of hatred and...something else that he felt towards his guardian.

Light snorted, too quietly for Matt to notice in his anxious state. Guardian. What an ambiguous word. It could mean anything from a parent to a prison guard. But where did L fit on that scale? He was certainly closer to Light than a jail warden would have been, but the mere idea of L as a paternal figure was hilarious.

No, Light had no idea what L was to him.

And at that point, Light brutally slammed his train of thought into a metaphorical brick wall. Again?! Why was it that all his thoughts eventually led him back to the infuriatingly unmovable psychologist? Even if L had been his only source of company for more than a year, there was no reason for him to occupy Light's mind to such an extent. It was bordering on obsession!

Light rolled his eyes. If L were to know about this constant wandering of Light's mind, he would undoubtedly file some lengthy report on his psychopathic development, declaring that he wasn't fit to re-enter the public world until he was at least thirty. To be honest, Light was completely nonplussed as to why L so insisted upon Light being kept away from the general public; he sure as hell didn't _feel_ insane. Except sometimes, when his emotions got to the point where he couldn't rein them in anymore and they took over his speech. But that was normal, right? Light wouldn't know – he'd been that way for as long as he could remember. If it was abnormal, he wasn't in any position to realise so.

He definitely wasn't as crazy as some of the people he'd seen on the news: disgusting, repulsive beings that butchered children and blew up houses for no apparent reason. And yet, while those degenerates were simply sentenced to spend the rest of their days in a psychiatric hospital, Light was doomed to spend the slowly dwindling years until he turned eighteen with a man who, to be completely honest, seemed to be infinitely crazier than Light himself.

 _Eighteen_ , Light mused. It seemed so far away, and yet when he thought about it, so close. His birthday was in February, and –

Light's head snapped up. February. It was January. He would be eighteen in just over a month. And then...he would have freedom, right? Yes, freedom, that was what he wanted. Freedom.

Without L.

He would finally be rid of the irritating man, finally be left to his own devices. He would be alone.

Light genuinely did not understand why that thought made him so inexplicably sad.

* * *

It didn't take a genius to work out that Light was distressed.

Subsequently, despite the fact that Matt's dubious status as a genius was limited solely to his skill with technology, he could see that Light was taking part in some kind of mental debate with himself.

Matt began to believe more strongly in L's claim about Light's lack of sanity, until he remembered he did the same thing frequently. And Matt definitely wasn't mad.

Though that probably wasn't going to last, if Mello took longer than another hour in finishing his mission at Four-Field HQ.

How long did it take to find out the names of the big bosses of one enormous company anyway? Not having the blond in the immediate vicinity was making Matt jumpy, the redhead expecting to receive some kind of supernatural message any second, declaring that Mello had perished in a horrible gunfight or something.

On second thoughts, maybe it wasn't that much of a great idea to dwell on such imaginings. Mello had been gone only for a couple of hours. He would return any minute now; he had taken a car, so he wouldn't need to walk all the way there and back.

 _But then shouldn't he have returned already_? A traitorous voice inside his head whispered, _Seriously, how long can it take for an experienced Mafioso to obtain a tiny bit of information? Something's gone wrong._

Matt amused himself for the next few minutes by brutally slamming the voice into a metaphorical brick wall.

There was no way something could have gone wrong without L or Near telling him, right? It was bad enough that they hadn't let him listen to the feed from the tiny microphone attached to Mello's collar (using the fact that neither he nor Light were trained detectives, and would "likely panic at the slightest hint of something going awry", to justify their ridiculous decision). Surely they wouldn't keep anything potentially dangerous from him, would they? They knew how much he cared about Mello.

Matt refused to acknowledge the blush spreading across his cheeks at that thought.

Suddenly, a door opened, causing Matt to jump. He whirled around in his revolving chair, his foot catching Light's leg on the way, snapping the brunet out of his obviously unpleasant reverie.

They came face to face with Near, parts of whose hair seemed to be curled into tight spirals, probably due to his habit of twisting it around his finger.

Matt tried not to expect the worst.

Near drew in a breath. "Something has gone wrong," he said.

* * *

Marching purposefully into Number Eighty-Four, West Street, Mello resisted the urge to loosen his tie. The blond hated any form of clothing that even remotely hinted at formality, but unfortunately the crisp, black suit was a necessity if he wasn't to be arrested on sight.

Spotting the front desk, Mello made his way over to the male receptionist (Another? Did Four-Field have something against stereotypes or something?) and put on his best lady (or in this case, gentleman) killing smile.

"Hi, my name's Michael Keene. I was wondering if I could talk to your manager about your job vacancy in ad production?" he asked pleasantly, noting with satisfaction that while this receptionist seemed to have more of a spine than the last, he also appeared to be much more susceptible to the blond's charms.

The receptionist smiled back, looking slightly dazzled. "Uh, sure, I'll just check to see if one of the bosses is free."

Mello held back his smug smile while the man picked up the phone and pressed a button. After a few seconds of waiting, the line was obviously picked up at the other end, and Mello proceeded to listen to one side of the conversation.

"Good morning, I was wondering if either of the bosses was free to speak with – oh, is that so? That's unfortunate, is there an opening soon? ...I see. Well, if you'll pass on my message, I can get his details so they can call back. Thank you." The man put down the telephone. "I'm sorry," he addressed Mello, "They won't be free at all today, but if you'd give me your phone number, I could ask them to call you back."

Mello hesitated for the perfect amount of time, before biting his lip. "I'm afraid I haven't memorised my number yet – new phone and all – and I left my mobile at home. I'm very sorry, should I come back with it later?" He shifted his expression to one of embarrassed worry, glancing at the receptionist in a way that the blond knew would melt any man's heart.

"Oh no, no, that isn't a problem at all! I can give you card with a number to call when you retrieve your phone. I'm here until six, so you can give me your number between now and then." For some unexplainable reason, the suggestion seemed a bit more, well, _suggestive_ than it probably should have in a working environment.

Mello grinned and bore it. "Thanks, that'd be so helpful! I'll make sure to call back." He accepted the card and made to leave, holding back his frustration at not being able to discover anything much.

He fumed all the way outside, lost in his self-berating thoughts as he stormed (calmly, somehow) towards the pedestrian crossing.

He heard the words " _Look out_!" just before the car hit him.

* * *

Matt and Light rushed into the room where L and Near had been listening in on Mello's mission.

"What happened?!" Matt yelled, taking in the worrying sounds of static coming from all the speakers.

L was sitting in a chair, his entire body frozen and tense. Light ran over to him, concern and confusion written all over his face.

"L!" the youth shouted, putting his face right in front of the psychologist's. "何だ?!"

Matt cursed mentally as L began to explain in hurried Japanese. "我々はメロとの接触を失っている –"

" _I can't understand a fucking word you're saying_!" Matt screamed. "Now what the _fuck_ has happened to Mello?!"

They all stared at him blankly for a second before Near said in a hushed voice, "We are not certain of what exactly happened, but we have lost all connections with Mello. It appears something has destroyed the bug, and we have reason to believe he was on a road when the loss of contact occurred."

Matt forgot how to breathe.

Light's eyes widened. "Mello-san was hit by traffic?" he asked disbelievingly.

"We do not know for sure what exactly happened, but that seems to be the most logical conclusion, yes," L said. "However, we do not know whether Mello is injured or not. He could be perfectly unharmed."

"Or he could be dead," stated Matt, ever the pessimist.

Silence.

Matt tried to remember how his heart had felt before it had been torn to shreds.

* * *

Mello lay sprawled in the gutter, his hair full of slimy leaves and mud. He didn't move, lest there was any damage to his spinal cord. He doubted that there was, but better safe than in hospital, being questioned about his name.

Mentally scanning his body, Mello found no injury, apart from a few expected bruises, and maybe some scrapes on his hands. He twitched his feet and hands, and made to sit up.

"No, no, stay where you are!" a concerned voice above him ordered, cautious hands holding him down. It took Mello a few seconds to recognise the voice as that of the receptionist he had just bade farewell to.

 _Shit, this is embarrassing,_ was Mello's initial thought.

"You're lucky the car managed to slow down a lot before it hit you, but I'm calling an ambulance now anyway," the man went on to declare.

Mello eyes snapped open, and he rolled onto his back in a hurry. "No! No hospitals!"

The muddy brown eyes staring into his looked confused. "But we have to, to check that you're oka–"

"I'm fine," Mello assured him. "Absolutely fine, thanks for your concern. But seriously, all I need is a shower and new clothes. Maybe a plaster or two. No hospitals, and definitely no ambulances!" Maybe he was laying it on a bit too thick.

The receptionist looked dubious, but Mello could sense he was cracking. "Well...if you're completely certain..."

"I am. Thanks." Mello heaved himself into a sitting position, noting with relief that he wasn't dizzy in the slightest, and therefore probably didn't have a concussion.

As he stood, he noticed a woman standing slightly closer than the rest of the worried crowd around them. If her wide, horror-struck and guilt-ridden eyes were anything to go by, this was the driver of the car that had hit him.

"I'm so sorry!" she proclaimed, reinforcing his assumption. "If you want to claim damages, I'd be happy to –"

"No, it's alright, it was my fault; I should have looked," Mello reassured her, wishing more than anything to escape the spotlight and head back to Near's headquarters. Talking of which...

Bugger, his microphone was broken. Matt was probably shitting a brick.

Making his excuses and saying goodbye to the still-concerned receptionist and driver, Mello hurried back to the nondescript Toyota Near had loaned to him for the mission. He ignored the odd looks his filthy clothes were getting as he got into the car, slammed the door and drove away.

Only when he was at least two miles away from the parking lot where he'd started from did Mello fish the receptionist's mobile phone out of his pocket.

That would prove to be useful.

* * *

Matt was in the middle of the depression part of the five stages of grief when Mello burst through the door, looking muddy and leaf-covered, but definitely alive.

The blond was, to say the least, startled when Matt launched himself at the blond and refused to let go.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Mello trying to avoid wiping gutter-mess on Matt, though it was slightly pointless when Matt had mud smeared all down his front now already.

They broke apart when Near cleared his throat tactfully, his normally blank eyes showing the slightest hint of warmth. "We are all glad to see that Mello is unharmed, but what happened to him? Why did the bug lose contact?"

Mello grimaced. "It got broken. I was hit by a car and fell over, though it wasn't going very fast. I wasn't hurt, but I can't say the same for your precious gadget, sorry." He shrugged, obviously not really sorry at all.

"It is alright." Near told him. "But now we have to formulate another infiltration plan to obtain information about Four-Field's administrators."

Mello shook his head, his grin slightly manic. "Nuh-uh, Sheepy. Look what I got my paws on!" He held up a silver mobile phone, swinging it by the strap.

L blinked. "And who did you steal that from?"

Mello smirked. "The receptionist, when he was fussing over me after the car accident. I saw another mobile on his desk, so this must be his spare, which is good, as he won't notice it's missing so quickly. If he has the number of his house phone stored on this, we can call it and get him to come here."

"Why would we want to do that?" Matt asked, "Isn't this place supposed to be top-secret?"

"So we can interrogate him, of course!" Mello said, like it was obvious.

"It is unlikely that he will know many details about the company's illegal actions, taking into account his position," L said, chewing his thumb.

"He must have heard something, and at the very least he'll know the names of the bosses," Mello retorted.

L looked thoughtful. "There is quite a big chance that is true. In that case, we shall do so tomorrow, at seven pm. He said his working hours end at six, so he should have returned home by then."

Near nodded. "Shall we stop work for the day, then? There is not really much else we can do at this point."

"Very well," L agreed. "We shall meet at two o'clock to discuss the finer points of the plan. Until then, good night, everyone."

* * *

As the two waited for the lift to arrive, Mello said to Matt, "I can't wait to finally put these dickheads behind bars. It'll probably be one of the most satisfying achievements of my life."

Matt chuckled. "Does this mean you've got over your worries that this seemed too simple?"

Mello shrugged. "Not completely, but we've been working on the Jouka Case for so long; surely we can't have missed any clue that told us we were on the wrong track."

"My thoughts exactly," Matt agreed. As they stepped into the elevator, Matt gathered up his courage and laced his fingers with Mello's. The blond squeezed his hand back. "I'm so glad you're alright, Mels. Don't let me think you're dead again, okay? Ever. I think I'd go mad."

Mello just drew him into another embrace as the doors slid shut, muds and leaves be damned.

* * *

Light entered the floor he and L were sharing just behind the slouching man. He was about to go and make some coffee (no sugar, of course) when L spoke.

"Light-kun?"

Light hesitated. "Yes, L?"

"Do you believe we are on the right track with this investigation?"

Light blinked. The question surprised him slightly, but L wasn't famous for his predictability. "Yes: all the proof points toward Four-Field. Why?"

L shrugged. "Just thinking."

Nothing different there, then. Sometimes, Light theorised the world would halt in its orbit of the Sun if L ever stopped thinking.

Light turned on his heel to exit the room, but whirled around once again when he felt L's hand on his wrist. He snatched his arm away, taking a step back.

L eyed him speculatively. "Still don't like being touched, Light-kun?" he asked in Japanese.

Light glared at him. "It's not that I still don't like being touched, it's that I still don't like being suddenly touched by you. Can you blame me for it?"

L sighed, and chose to ignore Light's dig at him. "Not really. What Amane Misa did to you was unforgivable, Light-kun, but you can't let it stop you interacting with others completely."

"I have no problem with interaction," he sniffed, "It is unforseen physical contact with you that I wish to avoid."

"Pedantic as always, Light-kun." L scratched his ankle with his foot, reminding Light strongly of a monkey. "Though you are correct; I see you have formed a friendship with Matt-kun."

Light nodded curtly. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No need to get defensive, Light-kun."

Light restrained himself from baring his teeth. Was the man's sole purpose in this world to annoy the hell out of him? He always had irritated Light, right from the point where they'd first met, in that accursed prison cell.

"Calm down, please, Light-kun." L, as always, managed to see through every façade he put up.

"That's a tall order, with you trying your utmost to piss me off," Light retorted, only barely keeping his voice calm.

L blinked infuriatingly slowly. "I am not trying to annoy you, Light-kun. Only help."

Light snorted. "Yeah, sure. Like you were _only helping_ when you forbade me from seeing my own family."

"Contrary to your obvious assumption, I did not make that decision out of spite. Your mental state is not stable at this moment in time, and having you in close proximity with your family would put both them and you in danger," L told him.

"But I'll be in close proximity with them when I'm eighteen," Light shot back. "You'll lose custody of me then; even you couldn't convince the courts to allow you to hold me after then."

L sighed almost inaudibly. "Yes, that is true. Only five weeks left, if I recall correctly."

Light nodded, trying his utmost to look haughty and untouchable.

L smiled slightly, shocking Light to his very core. "It will be strange to be separate from you again, Light-kun. I have become accustomed to your presence."

Light's mask faltered slightly, his eyes betraying the tiniest hint of regret. "It will, won't it?" he said, "But not necessarily unwelcome."

L looked him in the eyes. "Though not necessarily welcome, either, Light-kun."

Light couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the clarity with which L could see into his mind.


	13. Purgatory

_She was staring at him again, as she always had._

_Her eyes – wide, blue orbs that seemed to be made out of little pieces of sky – gazed at him out of a porcelain face, framed by flaxen hair._

_So normal, so ordinary..._

_Yet so different this time._

_Misa pressed the gun into his hand._

" _Kill me," she whispered._

* * *

Light awoke with a gasp, lurching upright and sprinting to his en suite bathroom, where he retched painful quantities of nothing into the toilet bowl. After his stomach had finished roiling and churning, he stood up shakily and splashed his face with cool water at the sink, scrubbing at his eyes as if to scour the image from the backs of his lids.

Remembering again, he had to collapse into a ball on the tiled floor, fighting to breathe normally. He could practically feel the repulsive metal of the gun in his palm.

"Light-kun?"

Light froze, silently cursing his guardian's insomnia and acute hearing. L couldn't see him like this. Not again.

He heard the soft padding of L's feet on the floor, the distinctive noise they made when they left the tiles, as if the floor was slightly tacky.

L didn't touch him, only sat on the closed toilet seat, looking at Light and waiting for him to calm down. He'd tried to touch him once before, the first time Light had been in a state like this. The fracture in his hand hadn't healed for weeks.

Slowly, Light returned to reality, unfurled his body and heaved himself into a sitting position, looking up at L.

"Do you want to talk about it?" L asked mildly, his voice not betraying any emotion, and yet it wasn't so painfully blank as always.

Light shook his head. L certainly already knew what his nightly visions tortured him with; he didn't need to hear it from Light's own lips as well.

L only nodded, having expected the answer. "Are you ready to go back to bed, then?"

Light hesitated, before inclining his head in affirmation. He wouldn't sleep again for hours, of course, but the promise of soft sheets sounded pleasant.

L held out his hand, as was ritual between them, and, following their custom, Light completely ignored it and stood up himself.

L trailed after Light as he strode to the bed, flopped onto it and pulled the covers up to his ears.

Now L would exit the room, leaving Light alone with his fear and his weakness and the dark and the silence, just as he always did.

Light was surprised enough to sit up again when he instead felt the psychologist seat himself on the mattress, perching in his odd way as his hands rested upon his knees.

"Lie down, Light-kun, you should relax," the man told him, looking at him from behind his shaggy mess of hair with eyes so different to those others he saw every night.

Light obeyed, mechanically lying down again, but not bothering to cover his bare chest with the duvet. L observed him speculatively, taking in his usually tanned torso, now bleached by the moonlight.

"I keep noticing how adult you've become recently," L told him softly, idly drawing an invisible pattern onto his knee. "Did you always look like this?"

"Yes." Light spoke his first word of the night in a tone of acid. "You just never saw."

"I see everything, Light-kun, and you did not look this grown when you first came to me," L said, biting his thumb.

Light narrowed his eyes. "You mean when _you_ first came to _me._ I wasn't exactly in a position to go anywhere at that point in time," he reminded L sarcastically, remembering the cold concrete of the prison cell and how L's face, so unfamiliar at the time, had looked from behind the bars.

L smiled slightly, but it faded just as fast as it appeared. "That is true."

"What did you think of me back then?" Light asked on a whim, "When I was in such a pathetic state, seeing ghosts of the past everywhere?"

L considered. That was one, if the only, thing that Light appreciated about L: he always took his questions seriously.

Finally, the psychologist opened his mouth, extracting his thumb. "You were interesting. A thing of uniqueness that was different from all the other patients I had studied."

"So I was nothing more than a challenge?" Light asked bitterly. He regretted asking the initial question in the first place.

"You were nothing more than a challenge," L affirmed, his eyes still staring into Light's own.

Light rolled over, breaking the eye contact. He refused to let L see the pain of his weather-worn heart in his face.

"However, you are more than just a challenge now."

Light swallowed thickly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be left alone. "You don't need to lie for my sake. I don't care. It's better like this anyway." Why did it sound like he was attempting to convince himself?

He felt and heard L shift on the bed, drawing closer and leaning over the teen. Light clamped his eyes shut.

"I am not lying, Light-kun. You are still exceedingly interesting to me, yes, but there is a connection between us now. I wonder...is this what parents feel for their offspring?"

Light suddenly grabbed a fistful of L's shirt, jerking the man forward until there were mere inches separating their faces.

" _I am not your child_ ," he hissed, furious.

L blinked. "I realise that, Light-kun. But I theorise that I hold emotions towards you that a parent would to th–"

Light slammed his fist into L's face as hard as he could, the force sending the psychologist flying backwards, off the bed.

"Go _away_!" he screamed, scrambling away from the man, "Leave me alone!"

L got up, still testing his jaw tentatively with long-fingered hands. "Light-kun is getting closer and closer to his breaking point," he stated as he reached the door.

" _Shut up_!" Light buried his head under the pillow, refusing to let L see his tears of rage.

He heard the door click shut.

Sobbing noiselessly and curling into a ball for the second time that night, Light surrendered himself to the inevitable images of Misa's blood-soaked body, and L nursing his bruised cheek.

 _Is this my punishment_?

* * *

Matt took a luxuriously long draft of his overly-sweetened coffee, ignoring the way it steamed up his goggles. It was nice to finally have time to dawdle in the mornings again.

"Why do you wear those stupid things inside, anyway?" Mello walked into the kitchen, bare-chested, with a towel hung around his shoulders.

Matt tried to pass off the blush as heat from his drink. "I like them," he said simply, "They make everything look more friendly."

Mello snorted a laugh. "Uh huh? What, you like orange then?"

Matt nodded, slurping his coffee again.

"It clashes with your hair," Mello informed him helpfully.

"Thanks, Mels. What _doesn't_ clash with my hair?"

Mello thought about it. "That's a good question, actually. Probably a colour that isn't in the visible spectrum."

Matt chuckled, used to this kind of teasing by now. "Probably."

"Actually –" Mello grabbed his chin, raising Matt's face to see it properly and slipping the googles down to hang around the redhead's neck.

Matt blinked at the sunlight in Mello's hair, wondering whether the real Sun could ever be that radiant.

"Ice blue."

The words startled him. "Huh?"

"Ice blue," Mello repeated. "Your hair would look good with a pale ice blue."

"Like your eyes?" Matt blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mello looked surprised. "Huh?" He mimicked Matt's words of a moment ago.

"Never mind," Matt muttered hurriedly, trying to pull away from Mello's hand, which was still grasping his chin.

Mello held on. "You think we match?" he asked ambiguously.

Matt was unsure of what to say. "Uh...yes? No? Maybe?"

Mello rolled his eyes, afterwards pressing a joking kiss to Matt's temple. "Stop being such a dumbass. You know what I think goes particularly well with blond hair?" he asked teasingly.

Matt shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"Green."

* * *

At exactly ten to seven in the evening, Mello and Matt walked into the investigation room. Near was already seated on the floor in front of a large screen, but strangely, L and Light weren't there yet.

"Do you live in here or something?" Mello asked coldly, addressing the white-haired boy.

Near gave him a look and replied, "Actually, I stay on the fifth floor."

Matt frowned. "What, all by yourself?" When he looked back on it, it seemed a stupid question, but the floors were so large and Near was so not.

"Yes, Matt, by myself." Near idly pushed a solitary toy train around its track.

It suddenly struck Matt that Near must be the loneliest person on the planet.

Mello seemed untroubled, sprawled in a chair at the metal table. "Where're L and Light?" he asked.

Near shrugged. "They seem to be late. They should be here in a minute or two."

And indeed, they were, but their arrival only served to make Matt more concerned.

Light looked haggard and drawn, the bags under his weary eyes rivalling L's. The man himself was sporting a colourful bruise on his cheek that seemed to be almost as large as Mello's burn.

"Fucking hell," Mello declared. "What happened to you two?"

Light didn't answer, making to his seat next to Matt. The redhead took in his sallow complexion with a worried glance. It appeared Light had suffered through a very bad night indeed.

"I walked into a door," was L's obvious lie, the psychologist not even bothering to make up a good one.

Mello gave him an odd look, but dropped it. "Whatever. So, are we gonna call this guy or what?"

"Shouldn't we plan what to say first?" Matt suggested, leaning his forearms on the tabletop. "What do we want him to do?"

"We should not give him the address of the building," Near said, "If he manages to give our location to his managers, we would be in a very undesirable position indeed."

"Agreed." L nodded, fishing a boiled sweet out of his pocket. He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. "Mello, do you know of any places close to here that are frequently used for illegal activities?"

Mello thought for a bit, then nodded. "There's a certain alleyway about ten minutes away from here by foot; drugs change hands there a lot, as well as whores."

"Then we shall give him directions to that alley, then blindfold him and drive him here," L planned. "However, it would be best if you stayed inside for this particular mission, Mello. Your face is hard to forget, and we do not want any rumours of your actions spreading throughout the underworld; it may blow our cover."

Mello scowled, but thankfully saw reason. "Fine, fine. Who'll go, then? Near would be laughed out of the city if he set a foot in that place, and Light looks a bit too weak and rape-able."

The brunet frowned at that, looking offended. "I can take care of myself," he said emphatically, his accent becoming more pronounced in his earnest.

Mello only smirked. "Sure."

Light seemed about to retort, probably with something less than polite, so Matt stepped in. "It wouldn't be right to have you go to such a dangerous place, Light, you're still under eighteen."

"Only just," Light grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

"This is not subjective, Light-kun. You will not be venturing on this mission." The finality in L's voice effectively ended the conversation.

Light didn't seem pleased, scowling and biting his lip. He was in an exceedingly bad mood today, Matt observed.

"So who will bring the target here, then?" Near enquired, his voice quiet in the sudden silence.

All eyes turned to Matt.

"Oh, _hell_ no."

All eyes turned to Mello.

"Matt's in no way suited to this either! He's never set foot in a place like that before; they'd eat him alive!" the blond declared, gesturing with his hands as if to illustrate exactly how Matt would be brutally murdered.

Matt decided to pipe up. "Actually, I have set foot in a place like that before. Once. I regretted it," he informed his room-mate.

Mello's eyes narrowed. "Why'd you regret it?" He was obviously expecting the worst, and planning to beat the shit out of whatever guy had assaulted him.

Matt smirked. "I picked you up. Messed up my life for the rest of time, that did."

Mello visibly relaxed, leaning back in his chair again. "Yeah, get over it. So, I think I've made my point clear: Matt ain't going. It'll have to be you, L. Or one of Near's lackeys."

"It isn't fair to forbid Matt from taking part in the mission just because Mello is overprotective of him," Near stated calmly.

Mello nearly vaulted over the table in his effort to strangle the boy. "I'm not overprotective!" he yelled, marching over to where Near sat. Matt grabbed the back of his leather vest, holding him back.

"Calm down, Mels, Near's just teasing." Though really, the words 'Near' and 'teasing' shouldn't have been in the same sentence. "But he's sort of right, you know. There's not really any reason why I shouldn't be able to do this. It's fairly simple, right? Just grab the guy, stick him in the car and drive."

"There's a _bit_ more finesse in it than that." Though Mello's back was to the redhead, Matt could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"Matt-kun is right," L said, "Despite his dubious dress-sense, he doesn't really stand out from the crowd. If he wore different clothes for this, no individual would look at him twice."

"Gevanni and Rester could act as back-up," Near offered, earning him a glare from a luckily still-restrained Mello.

"Excellent. It's decided, then." L crunched his boiled sweet. "Matt-kun, accompanied by Gevanni and Commander Rester, will collect the target from the specified meeting point. Now we need to telephone the target and make certain he will be at the meeting point himself."

"Leave that to me." The grin on Mello's face was nothing short of petrifying. "Now that _is_ my speciality."

"What, threatening people?" Matt asked blandly.

"Got it in one. What was the name of the person he made most calls to again?"

"Simon Rey," Matt answered automatically. He'd traced the phone's call history the night before.

"Great, we'll use him. That should be decent enough blackmail."

Matt knew it was irrational, but he suddenly felt really sorry for the unsuspecting receptionist.

* * *

Mello was sitting in front of the microphone that would scramble his voice, ready to 'persuade' their target to stroll into the lion's den. A hollow ringing sounded through the investigation room as the group waited for the line to be picked up.

Soon enough, it was. "Hello, this is Liam Mooring."

"Hello," Mello said pleasantly, knowing full well that the voice scrambler would make it sound nightmarish.

There was a silence on the other end, signifying the man's obvious confusion.

"Excuse me?" he said finally, "Is this some kind of prank?"

"'Fraid not," Mello told him, "Don't hang up, answer my questions and don't piss me off. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"You lying to me?" Matt was sure Mello could tell whether the man was lying or not by his voice alone, so the blond must have been utilising some intimidation technique, Matt theorised.

"No, no, I'm not!" the voiced sounded a lot more panicked all of a sudden.

"Well then, I have something here that you'll probably be very interested in," Mello continued.

There was a pause. "What?"

"Does the name 'Simon Rey' mean anything to you?" The smirk on Mello's face grew wider.

Another silence. Then: "What the hell have you done to him, you bastard?!"

"Nothing, nothing," Mello assured him. "Yet," he added.

"I swear, if you hurt one hair on his head, I'll go to the police and –"

"Ah ah ah," Mello cautioned, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. It'd be a shame if your little boyfriend suffered a horrible accident, now wouldn't it?"

"Let him go!"

"I will, don't worry."

"Huh?"

Mello chuckled. "I'll let him go, completely unharmed, but under one condition."

"What's the condition?"

"You bring me something that I need."

Matt could hear Mooring swallowing. "What do you need?"

"Nothing much, just a few grand," Mello said lightly.

"So that's what this is all about, huh? Typical. I'll go to the ATM and withdraw th–"

"No withdrawing, please," Mello interrupted, "It can be traced."

"But I don't have that much money in cash!"

"Oh, dear, that's a shame. Your whore's such a pretty one too..." Mello enunciated the words slowly, making sure there was no room for misunderstanding.

"Wait, no! I don't have a thousand quid on me, but I have a few hundred! I can bring you that and pay the rest later!" the man said hurriedly, tripping over his own words.

Matt saw Light's posture relax slightly next to him. Everything was going to plan.

Mello paused, feigning consideration. "Alright, then, that's fair. Tell you what, you bring the money and I'll bring you a picture of your boyfriend so you know he's okay. That sound good to you?"

"Yes, fine! Where do I bring the money?"

"Do you know Pencheth Road?"

"Yes. Do I bring it there?"

"No, if you're entering on the east side, it's the fifth right. Don't bring a car, and don't bring anyone with you or tell anybody about this between now and then. I can assure you that if you do so, little Simon won't be having a very happy time," Mello informed him cheerily.

"Don't hurt him, please!"

"We've already gone through this. Do everything I tell you and he'll be fine. Now shouldn't you get going? I'm known for being quite an impatient person."

 _Too true_ , Matt agreed.

"Fine, I'll be there in a few minutes, as quick as I can!"

"It better be."

Mello hung up, turned around in his chair and looked smug. "Feel free to worship me."

They all ignored him.

"Matt-kun, you need to leave now. Take one of Near's cars, they're less noticeable than yours."

"Gevanni, Rester."

"Yes sir?"

"Take Matt to the garage, and make sure he does not come to any harm during the mission."

"Yes sir."

"Take care, Matt."

"I'll be fine, Light, what could possibly go wrong?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, don't say that! It's the one phrase that's completely certain to jinx everything!"

"Never took you for a superstitious guy, Mels."

"Fuck off."

"Fucking off! Come on guys, let's go kidnap some gay receptionists!"

"Yes sir."

"Please don't call me sir, it makes me feel old."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Matt waited in the alleyway, leaning against the wall and watching the clouds his breath made in the cold air. He noticed a heavily made-up, skimpily-dressed and freezing-looking woman checking him out and carefully avoided making eye contact.

He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his black hoodie, fingering his trusty (though unused) flick knife. It was the same one he'd been carrying when he'd discovered Mello for the first time, he recalled idly.

Suddenly, sharp footsteps broke the frozen silence, scaring away the prostitute and startling Matt. He looked up to see the silhouette of who he assumed to be the receptionist they were blackmailing walking briskly towards him.

The man pattered up to stand in front of him, a safe distance back, but close enough that Matt could see the terror on his face and the sweat on his brow.

"Are you the person who's got Simon?" the man who was evidently Liam Mooring asked, his voice sticking slightly.

"Yup." Matt said simply, sticking to his old habit of saying as little as possible that he had formed in his hacking days.

"How is he?"

"Fine."

A short silence.

"Here's the money." Mooring handed him an envelope that wasn't overly fat, but still large enough to hold a couple of hundred pounds. "I'll bring the rest at a later point during the week. Where's the picture?" he asked anxiously, snatching his hands away from the envelope as Matt took it.

Matt handed him a Post-It with a crudely-drawn stick man on it.

Mooring stared at it blankly. "Is this a joke?"

Matt grinned. "Yes."

The man barely got a chance to open his mouth again before Gevanni and Rester were upon him, forcing him into painful-looking full-Nelsons and headlocks, somehow simultaneously gagging, binding and blindfolding him.

They were really quite skilled; Matt could barely hear the panicked noises Mooring was making.

The three of them managed to bundle the struggling man into the sizeable boot, then ran to their assigned seats: Matt slid into the passenger seat while Rester turned the keys in the ignition and Gevanni slammed the back door shut.

They raced away at a speed that Matt was sure a forty-something year old man should not be hitting.

* * *

When they reached the headquarters, which really wasn't after a very long time at all, Matt swallowed his motion sickness and jumped out of the death-trap again. He assisted Rester and Gevanni in hauling the reluctant victim through the sliding doors, receiving a polished shoe to the face for his trouble.

When they finally reached the door leading to the investigation room, Matt gratefully left Mooring to Gevanni and Rester, escaping through the entryway.

L looked up. "What happened to your face?" he asked, mildly curious.

"I walked into a door," Matt told him.

Mello snorted, and Light smiled lightly. Near showed no emotion whatsoever, but Matt concluded that was his equivalent of rib-cracking laughter.

"Touché," Mello said, still grinning. "Is it okay, though?"

Matt shrugged. "I think it's just a bruise. He's a feisty one."

"Yes, that is evident."

At first, Matt thought Near was actually displaying sarcasm, but then realised that the large screen on the wall was showing live footage of Gevanni and Rester heaving a viciously struggling Mooring into something that looked rather like a dentist's chair, complete with restraints.

Rester wiped his brow, removing Mooring's gag, while Gevanni turned on the microphone. "Near, do you read me?"

"Yes, that is fine, Gevanni. He and Rester may leave now," the white-haired boy said.

"Yes sir." They exited the room.

"Where am I?!" Mooring demanded, fighting against his bonds. "What is this?! Where's Simon?!""

"You are being held by the SPK for investigation purposes," L told him, leaning into the microphone in front of him.

Mooring froze. "Investigation?"

"Yes. The company you work for, Four-Field, is under serious suspicion of illegal activity," L informed him.

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"We shall see. Now, have you heard anything from anyone that could possibly suggest that Four-Field is involved in any criminal activity?"

"No!"

"His denial's vehement," Mello said, at a safe distance from the microphone, "A bit too vehement."

L nodded in agreement. "Please tell the truth, Mr Mooring."

"I am telling the truth! Now tell me where Simon is!"

"Simon Rey is perfectly safe and has no idea of what is occurring. We were never holding him in the first place."

Mooring went still. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I am afraid not, Mr Mooring. Now, please answer my previous question truthfully," L requested, ever polite.

Mooring looked hesitant, even with his eyes shielded. "If I tell you, will you let me go?"

"I can promise you that, Mr Mooring, but I am afraid we will have to make sure you hand in your notice at your job and never speak a word of this to anyone."

The man debated the advantages and disadvantages, before sighing in defeat. "Fine, I'll tell you all I know. But you have to let me go afterwards!"

"I have already given you my word, Mr Mooring," L reminded him patiently. "What have you heard about Four-Field?"

"A...a couple of years into my job there, I overheard a discussion between some of the higher-ups. They were talking about drugs, and supplies of it and the like. I was discovered to have heard the conversation, and they threatened me with making me redundant and ruining my life if I ever breathed a word of it to anyone. Since then, they've occasionally trusted me to handle the paperwork about some drug dealings, but only once or twice. That's all," he finished morosely.

L frowned. "Do you know what kind of drugs Four-Field was dealing with?"

"Some form of opium? I don't know."

"And have you heard anything that could possibly link Four-Field to abduction of children?"

"What?! No! I would have gone to the police if it was anything as serious as that, I swear!"

Matt stopped breathing. _What?_

L blinked in surprise. "Nothing at all? Not in the paperwork you were given?"

"No, nothing! Do you suspect them of those kidnapping cases in the papers?" Mooring asked desperately.

"That is none of your concern," L answered bluntly. "Do you know of any connections Four-Field might have to another illegal group?"

Mooring thought for a while. "I...I think so. There were a few names, but I can't remember all of them."

"One will be enough, Mr Mooring."

"Then...there were a lot of documents about drug trading with a group called Palm."

Matt could have sworn he heard every heart in the room stop.

"Palm?" L asked eventually, his voice betraying his disbelief.

"Yeah. Four-Field traded a lot of opium with them."

"...I see," L said quietly.

Matt looked at Mello. The blond was staring at the screen in shock, his mouth slightly open as if he'd just been punched in the stomach.

"Mels?" he whispered quietly.

"I shall start investigating transactions between Four-Field and Palm immediately," Near stated, shuffling quickly over to a separate computer and typing hurriedly.

L bit his thumb before asking Mooring another question. "Do you know the names of the main administrators of Four-Field?"

"Yes, Mikami Teru and Takada Kiyomi. The company started out in Japan," he said as way of explanation for the foreign names.

"We were aware of that," L told him. "Is there anything else you know?"

Mooring shook his head. "No, nothing, I swear. Can I go now?"

L nodded, though Mooring wouldn't have been able to see even if the psychologist had been standing right in front of him. "You will be escorted to your house. Do not speak of this to anyone, and hand in your notice first thing tomorrow, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes! I won't say anything!"

"Good." L turned off the microphone. They watched in silence as Gevanni reappeared to release Mooring and escort him out, still blindfolded.

Near's soft voice broke the hush. "There are records of opium transactions between Palm and Four-Field in the weeks starting 9th of May, 2011; 6th of June, 2011; 27th of June, 2011; 18th of July, 2011; 15th of August, 2011; 5th and 26th of September, 2011; 14th of November, 2011."

Mello swore under his breath, putting his head in his hands.

"What is it, Mello?" L asked, looking at the blond.

"I did raids close to most of those times, except the ones in June and November. In October, I fucked up; that's why I got kicked out, and why there wasn't a transaction that month." Mello looked up at them, and Matt felt his heart wail at how old and tired the blond suddenly looked.

Mello sighed heavily, massaging his temples. "I guess it's pretty obvious, then. Four-Field's involved with the kidnappings, but not directly guilty. They've been getting Palm to supply them with opium, probably to drug the kids and make them docile. They're in it together, and I've been helping them."

"You didn't know," Light whispered.

Mello sneered. "As if that makes any difference. I've effectively abducted twenty-odd children, drugged them and used them for God knows what horrible ends."

"Mels, it's not your fault," Matt broke in, realising how close to breaking the blond was.

"Save it," Mello said coldly. He stood up and walked out of the door. "I'll be in my room. Call me when it's time for me to go to jail," he said without turning around.

No one stopped him.


	14. Compromise

In the SPK investigation room, everyone was silent.

Matt stared at where Mello's retreating back had once been, but was now instead replaced by a cold metal door. To say he was worried about the blond would be a gross understatement: the thought of what Mello must be going through made his stomach churn so much he thought he was going to be sick.

L moved first. He lifted a thumb to his mouth, gnawing on the nail as he shifted his piercing gaze to Matt. "I believe it would be unwise to leave Mello on his own," he said, and Matt couldn't agree more, "Try to talk to him, but don't push him too hard."

Matt nodded briefly, determined to finally be of some small use to Mello, rather than a dead weight. He got up from his chair and hurried to the elevator that would take him to Floor Three.

As he entered Mello's bedroom, the first thing he noticed was the location of the blond. He was curled up in the centre of the bed, his knees drawn to his chest as he mimicked the position of an unborn child. That was the thing that panicked Matt the most; he'd never seen Mello so closed-off before. He'd always worn his heart on his sleeve, his loud and abrasive personality practically daring an onlooker to challenge him. Now, he didn't really seem to be Mello at all.

Matt stopped a couple of metres away from the bed, making sure not to invade his best friend's personal space. The blond appeared not to have noticed him, or to be ignoring him, and Matt was fine with either one, until he could think of something to say.

In the end, he started without planning anything out at all. Mello was too unpredictable anyway.

"Mello..."

The only reaction the blond showed was a slight twitch of the shoulder and a mumbled, "What?"

"It's really not your fault, you know." Matt knew he'd already perfectly illustrated that particular point, but it couldn't hurt to say it again. "You had no idea."

And suddenly, Mello was back, the scorching fire in his eyes as he snapped his head up, the coiled muscles in his back tensing as he prepared to spring from the bed, as if he were a lion.

"And that's part of the reason why it _was_ my fault!" he shouted, fury and self-loathing branded across his face, "I was so fucking naïve! I should have _seen_ that the demand for raids was higher than normal – once every month is fucking ridiculous! I was a blind fool, and look where it's got those kids! They might all be in comas for all we know!"

Matt took a step forward. "Mello, I don't think –" he broke off as Mello interrupted.

"I could've stopped this before it even started, but instead I had my head shoved so far up my ass I couldn't see anything, let alone add two and two! I'm a –"

The first thing Matt noticed was how quiet the room seemed now that Mello had finally stopped yelling. The second thing he noticed was how soft Mello's lips were against his own.

Mello was so still it scared the life out of him, but Matt persisted in the kiss, pouring all the affection he'd ever felt for the blond down Mello's throat, so there was no way he could deny it.

Matt pulled back after a few seconds, his face an attractive shade of puce that clashed with his hair so badly it hurt to look, but still he went on, determined to say what he meant to say before Mello started up with his shouting again.

"Mello, not only are you the most outwardly beautiful person I've ever seen, but the most _inwardly_ beautiful too," he said hurriedly, almost tripping over his words. "You care more about others than you care about yourself: just look at how you're beating yourself up about what happened to those kids! And don't even bother trying to argue with me, Mels, there was no way you could've figured out what Palm were doing, so instead of sitting here moping, shouldn't you be down there, with L and Near and Light, trying to figure out how to bring the culprits to justice? It doesn't matter what you did or didn't see, it doesn't change the fact that you're an amazing, good person, if a bit trigger-happy, and I –" Matt stopped talking.

Mello was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face; it may as well have been a mask. "You what?" he asked flatly.

Matt swallowed thickly. "Uh..."

He was nervous, there was no denying that, and yet Mello, who had helped Matt through his own bouts of self-hatred and disgust, needed to know there was someone who cared about him, no matter what. Matt owed him that much, and anyway, he'd kept it in the bag so long it was starting to become painful. It was time to man up and let it out.

He took a deep breath. "Mello...I think I might love you. Maybe."

Immediately afterwards, Matt wanted to shoot himself. That was not the eloquent, heart-warming confession he'd had in mind.

Mello stared at him, still with a face of marble. Then, the statue came to life, and he rubbed between his eyebrows and sighed.

"Matty...look."

And then Matt knew for certain he wasn't going to like what was to be said next.

"You and I both know that we're the closest friend each of us have, and I care a lot about you – really, I do. But...I've never felt love before, or felt _loved_ before. My family were dickheads, the little I remember of them, and I wasn't exactly Mr Popular at Wammy's either. I guess what I'm really getting at is that I _can't_ feel love, not really, and –"

"Please don't make excuses, Mello, it just makes it ten times worse," Matt said, keeping his face blank and his voice blanker. "I knew it was a long shot."

Mello's eyes widened to proportions that would have been almost comical out of context. "No, Matt, I'm not rejecting you!"

"Sure." Matt's face was still impassive, but his voice was so thick it felt like mud dripping from his lips.

"Matt..." And then, without any warning, Mello's arms were around him, holding him close and keeping him there when Matt tried to shy away. "The reason I'm saying all this is to apologise –"

"I just said not to –"

" _Not_ because I don't want to become involved with you, but because I can't give you everything, at least not yet. You deserve everything, Matt – more than everything! And now I'm going to say the most selfish thing I've ever said in my life."

Matt was still. "Which is?" he asked against his better judgement, his voice muffled by Mello's leather-clad torso.

"Will..." Matt had never heard Mello hesitate before. "Will you accept me anyway? Wait for me?"

Matt blinked, confused.

"I'm so sorry for asking you this," Mello went on, "but I want to make sure I can give you all I have, which is still less than you deserve. We can go little by little – I'm attracted to you, but right now, apart from fond, friendly feelings, that's all there is."

Matt pretended that didn't hurt.

"And, until a few minutes ago," Mello went on, "that was all I thought _you_ felt towards me as well. A simple attraction to my body and my appearance. But now I can see there's more, I can't just ignore everything and hope it'll go away. I want you, Matt, _God_ , I want you so much! And now I have a chance to get you, I honestly can't let you go without saying anything. But I can't just take and give nothing in return; you deserve more than that. So...will you ignore my selfishness and accept me? I won't say please, you need to make this decision without feeling guilty if you don't want it because you think you'll hurt my feelings."

There was a pause, in which Mello died on the inside, and Matt slowly came back to life.

Eventually, Matt spoke. "Mello, I know I'm not the most eloquent person in the world, but even I realise that my first confession was a pile of shit. So I'm going to reiterate." He grinned. "Mello, I really, really love you and you're amazing and incredible and the best thing that ever happened to me and way out of my league and I'll take you any way you come, you idiot, why wouldn't I?"

Mello grabbed him. He fisted his hands in the uncharacteristic black hoodie Matt was wearing, dragged him onto the bed and attacked his mouth with a ferocity that wouldn't have been out of place in a gladiator tournament.

Matt would have been lying if he said it wasn't the best moment of his life.

* * *

Back on the ground floor, L, Near and Light were sitting in a silence that was a third thoughtful, a third emotionless and a third concerned.

The silence quickly became three sixths concerned (though one wouldn't have thought so to look at it) as L turned to see his charge biting his lip in a fashion that was very un-Light-like.

"Mello will be fine, Light-kun, you needn't worry," L said, cocking his head to the side as Light rotated slowly in his chair to face him, poorly concealed agony written all over his too-old face.

The boy (man?) shook his head slightly. "That wasn't what I was thinking about," he murmured.

L regarded him for a while longer before fishing a chewy sweet out of his pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

Yagami Light's thought patterns were getting to be so unpredictable that even L couldn't forsee them with one hundred percent accuracy. To be more exact, it was only with seventy percent accuracy that he did so.

Light-kun would rejoice if he knew. Or maybe not.

L swallowed his sweet and hugged his knees a bit closer to his body. Either way, it wasn't long now.

* * *

Near supposed it was normal to be concerned about someone you cared about.

From that observation, he came up with two hypotheses. Either Yagami Light cared about Mello more than Near had previously assessed, or he was concerned over something (or someone) else. Possibly, he was concerned over his own life's happenings, which, taking into account the teen's reclusive nature, was the most probable out of all his theories.

Applying the same theories to L, however, was more difficult. The man, though Near held him in the highest regard, was not a socialite, and the white-haired boy had never seen him become explicitly attached to any individual before. Subsequently, it was strange that L seemed to be worrying over his ward; the psychologist had often warned Near about the dangers of becoming fond of the people you worked with.

And yet, there he was, chewing on a sweet of some sort, casting glances at Light every so often, as if to check he wasn't self-harming while his back was turned.

Curiously, Light was doing the same, causing the two to engage in a complicated dance of evasion, both trying their utmost to simultaneously stare at the other without being noticed by their object of fascination.

It was almost endearing, Near thought.

Sighing inaudibly, he shifted his own gaze to stare down at his lap, wishing for a puzzle of some sort. He himself had initially been something akin to concerned about Mello's reaction to the news of his former gang's involvement in the Jouka Case, but as Matt had run after the blond, he'd realised that Mello would be fine, as he had Matt to take half the burden from him.

Near had never detested Mello as much as Mello appeared to detest Near; the blond had an interesting array of emotions and, for lack of a better phrase, Near honestly liked him. The blond was his antithesis, and as such, they'd never really hit it off, but Near did enjoy the atmosphere he brought to a room, to some degree. Matt was a cooling agent to Mello's fire as well, which made the pair of them definitely more bearable than Near had initially assumed. They just fitted together, like two pieces from one of the puzzles Near took solace in.

For the first time since he could remember, Near wished for company.


	15. Square One

The next morning, Mello and Matt came down at seven sharp for work. L, Light and Near had already started, it seemed, L poring over one of the curious letters in a transparent evidence bag while Light appeared to be making notes from a web page. Near looked up from his own computer screen and greeted them briefly, as he always did.

"Mello, Matt."

"Hey, Near!" Matt returned the greeting cheerfully, still somewhat high from the overdose of Mello he'd had the night before.

He nudged Mello with his elbow. They'd agreed early that morning on the blond's next words.

Huffing all-sufferingly, Mello perfectly recited the script. "Sorry for storming off before, you lot. Guess I just lost it for a bit." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"That is perfectly understandable," L told him, looking up from the note. "I am thankful Matt-kun managed to talk some sense into you."

Matt blushed slightly. Truth be told, there hadn't been much talking involved.

"In addition, we managed to do some extra research into Palm while Matt and Mello were otherwise occupied," Near said, getting up from his perch on an office chair and walking over to them. "I believe I should start with the fact that we uncovered solid evidence that Four-Field and Palm have often worked together in illegal activities, such as drugs dealing, arms dealing and so forth."

L cut in. "I have also been studying the notes posted after the kidnappings in light of this new knowledge," he stated, "and have concluded that, apart from a baiting method, they serve no further purpose as far as clues are concerned. There is the obvious connection between "sleight of hand" and the name 'Palm', which we overlooked before in our haste to convict Four-Field, and after careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that the reference to "cleansing" refers to brainwashing of some sort, probably using the opium Palm have been gathering."

Matt frowned, confused. "But if the notes didn't serve any purpose other than that, why have them in the first place? Wouldn't they just be a liability?"

"Not necessarily." They all turned to Light at the words, seeing the brunet walk over from his computer.

"What do you mean?" Mello asked him.

"In this country, it is rare for an external investigation group, such as the SPK, to become involved in cases of this sort, which are only taking place in one city. As such, the police force would have taken this on, and most would assume that they would be the only ones investigating into it. And, if Near-san hadn't become interested in this case, they would be.

"Therefore, if we think as if we are the culprits for a second, it would be best to taunt the police force, to confuse them and harry them, those detectives who are already working on so many other cases. Also, the police force often cross-reference cases with similar ones from the past. If they did so, they would have found that kidnapping cases where hostage or ransom notes had been left were often carried out by small groups, who had a lot of time on their hands for planning, and little enough money to go to such lengths to get more; never massive industries with much more to lose.

"The fact that these particular notes have no demand for money would only confuse the police more, causing them to be frustrated with the lack of joined-up dots and to rush, therefore making mistakes. If we take that into consideration, having the notes would be very beneficial indeed, as the police would be rendered almost completely incompetent and suspicion would never be directed towards large companies such as Four-Field."

Matt blinked, completely lost.

Mello hummed in appreciation. "That makes sense," he acknowledged, the closest thing to a compliment Light would ever get from him.

L seemed to agree as well, looking at Light with an expression Matt could only describe as _fondness_ , but only when the teenager couldn't see, of course.

"Anyway," Matt snapped his thoughts away from the circular ones involving L and Light and handcuffs, "Seeing as we have all this lovely evidence, can we fuck them over _now_?"

L levelled a Look at him. "For reasons stated a few weeks previously, Matt-kun, we need to look into this a bit further, to make sure there is no way either organisation can bribe their way out."

Matt had expected the answer, but rolled his eyes anyway. "Worth a shot. But how are we going to get _more_ evidence? There's only so much you can get through minor hacking, you know?"

"And that is where you come in, Matt-kun," L told him. "Do you still have Liam Mooring's mobile telephone?"

"Who, the receptionist? Yeah, I have it."

"Would you be able to gather private information about the managers of Four-Field through it? There is an eighty percent change that the search will reveal nothing, but it is worth a try."

"Wouldn't it be better to hack into Four-Field's private files to get that information?" Matt asked, wondering why L was taking such an exhaustive route.

L raised his eyebrow slightly. "Four-Field has an extremely sophisticated security system that has been proven near-impossible to hack," he warned.

Matt had known that already. "No problem," he said, trying not to sound too smug.

L regarded him for a moment to determine whether he was bluffing or not, then shrugged and dismissed him. "Find out as much as you can about the managers, then."

Matt nodded and went to find a computer he could work on.

"In the meanwhile," L turned to Mello. "We are going to need to ask you a few questions about Palm."

Mello looked put-upon, but nodded anyway. He'd expected the inevitable interrogation from the psychologist as soon as it had become clear Palm was involved in the kidnappings.

"Would you prefer to do this in a separate room, or here?" L asked, showcasing his rare tendency towards preferential treatment when it came to Mello and Near. And Light, of course.

Mello shrugged. "Having everyone listening will cut down on time, and I don't want to spend a second longer gathering evidence than necessary. Anyway, I have nothing to hide concerning this case. I hated every minute of my time with Palm, and it'll be satisfying to finally give those bastards what's coming to them."

L nodded distractedly, his eyes shifting over to his ward, who was picking at his sleeves nervously.

Mello cleared his throat, and L's eyes snapped back to the blond, who raised an eyebrow. "Shall we get on with this, then?" he asked drily.

"Of course."

* * *

"Mello, did you, during your stay with Palm, ever have any contact with the major leaders?"

Mello swung his feet from the stool he was sitting on. "Nope."

"Do you know their identities?" L asked.

Mello shook his head. "Our section just got orders passed down to us through our main boss."

"And who was your boss?" L leaned forward slightly.

"Rod Ross. I had quite a lot of contact with him, for raid planning and stuff, but we didn't like each other."

L bit hit thumb contemplatively. "I see. And did you gather opium on these raids?"

"Yeah, I was the main guy for drug raids. Best shot, see?" Mello looked slightly smug.

L was unimpressed. "And did you know where this opium was being sent or what it was being used for?"

"No!" Mello's grasp on the edge of the stool tightened, his tendons standing out visibly. "I had no idea! I thought they were just going to sell it to whatever druggies were on the street. It did strike me that there were more raids than normal for that purpose, but I assumed Palm was building up a store for tough times." Mello was obviously displeased with himself for that particular oversight.

"No one blames you for that, Mello," L reassured the blond, before moving on to the next question. "Can you think of any places – abandoned buildings and such – where the children could possibly be incarcerated?"

Mello thought for quite a while about that one. Finally, he said, "No...I don't think so. Not in this city, anyway. The police around here are onto most of Palm's former quarters, and the few safehouses they do have are used for the gang itself, weapons and so on."

L looked disappointed, but swiftly moved on nevertheless. "Had you heard of any dealings Palm made with Four-Field before?"

Mello shook his head decisively. "No. I heard the name dropped a couple of times, obviously, seeing as they're such a large company and have such a huge area of influence. I didn't hear anything that could be a clue," he answered L's unasked question.

At that moment, Matt walked up to them. "I got the info," he told them proudly.

Light blinked, seemingly snapped out of the reverie he'd previously been in. "That was quick," he commented.

Matt shrugged. "I'm a quick guy."

Mello wasn't quite sure why the way Matt said those words made him want to kick the redhead's ass round the block.

"What did Matt find?" Near asked, putting the notebook into which he'd been copying down all of Mello's answers on the table.

Matt handed him an enormous pile of printouts as way of answer. "I got a lot of personal information on Takada and Mikami. Their history and such. It seems they struck gold with Four-Field first time, it being the first company they'd made as a pair. They're very good at predicting the stock market, and –"

L cut him off. "Thank you, Matt-kun, that is extremely impressive. However, we can read the documents without a narration." The way he said the words was not unkind, though slightly brusque.

Matt looked slightly sheepish. "Oh yeah...never mind then." He scratched the back of his head.

Mello was torn between choking L with his own strawberry laces and kissing the adorable expression of mortification off Matt's face. He decided to ignore one, and save the other for later.

"Oh!" Matt perked up slightly. "I forgot: I also found a list of Four-Field's empty warehouses. It could be them holding the kids instead of Palm, you know?"

L blinked. "That...is true," he said.

There was a short silence while Mello, L, Light and Near sifted through the sheaves of paper. Light found the list of warehouses first. He handed it to L without a word, avoiding contact both of the eye and of the hand.

If the snub affected L in any way, he hid it well. He scanned the list quickly, fished a biro out of his pocket and starred three of the buildings listed.

"These are the warehouses in this city," he said. "It is most likely that Four-Field, if they are indeed holding the children, would do so here; it is large and complicated, and doing so would also limit the disturbance to one region, making it much more ambiguous as to who the culprit is."

He passed the sheet of paper on to Near, along with the request, "If it is no trouble, could one of your personnel investigate these buildings and report back with any information that could point towards the location of the kidnapped children?"

Near nodded. "Of course, that will be no trouble." He pocketed the paper.

Chewing on his thumb and a piece of gum simultaneously, L's posture relaxed slightly. "We shall look into these warehouses in further detail tomorrow. At this moment, I believe it would be most beneficial to conduct more research as to the exact locations of the victims before they were taken."

"How would we do that?" Light asked, the first words he had spoken to L all morning.

"Recorded purchases, security cameras, places of habit, etcetera," L answered him.

Light nodded silently, appearing to be deep in thought. The youth didn't notice the look the L gave him, but Matt did. It shocked the redhead deeply; the expression on L's face was...raw. Like a new wound that had just been scrubbed with salt.

Not for the first time, Matt wondered exactly what L's feeling towards Light were.

When everyone scattered to conduct their individual research, however, Matt was forced to put it out of mind and concentrate on the glaring light of the computer monitor once again.

* * *

After a long day of work, Mello and Matt stumbled through the doors of the lift into their shared living space. They were both exhausted, far more so than the other members of the investigation team, as they had lost a considerable amount of sleeping time the night before.

The thought of their previous time together had Matt simultaneously embarrassed and wistful. A small part of him wondered how his body could possibly want more of Mello after all the blond had given him that night, while the rest scoffed at the minority, disbelieving that any part of Matt's mind could ever possibly be satisfied when it came to the object of his adoration.

Matt bit his lip. It was true he had become more bold recently, mainly through Mello's guidance, but he was still acutely shy when it came to their suddenly more...intimate relationship. It was all too new, and Matt hadn't finished finding his feet.

However, that didn't mean he wanted it any less.

Mello's voice brought him out of his ponderings. "Stop _looking_ at me like that! It's not making resisting you until you've slept a while any easier."

Matt gulped, desire lodging in his throat. "Give up then," he suggested, his voice husky.

Mello didn't seem too adamant upon arguing, which Matt was grateful for, as it allowed him to put the blond's mouth to much better use.

Their lips locked in a feverish contest to see who could completely suck the other's soul out of his mouth first, before they were beaten to it. Matt, predictably, submitted first, clutching Mello's hair to keep the blond's mouth attached to his and letting Mello take control.

The blond did so eagerly, hands sliding under Matt's shirt to caress his abdomen. Matt shivered, revelling in the still-unfamiliar sensation of leather sliding over burning skin. This had been the extent of the pair's actions the night before, Mello not wanting to take all of Matt while his heart was still incomplete, and Matt unsure whether his own heart could take the excitement without exploding.

They were inching forward: painfully slowly, but with progress nonetheless. The thought of everything to come made Matt groan in anticipation and bliss.

The noise seemed to spur Mello on, and the blond dragged Matt to a bedroom (the closest), flinging him onto the mattress. He crawled to loom above the gasping redhead, definitely not helping to prevent a pending asthma attack as he attacked Matt's lips again, this time with a renewed fervour.

Matt could only hold on to Mello's back for dear life, reciprocating as much as humanly possible and racking his brain as to how in the world he had managed to acquire an angel such as Mello.

As Mello pushed Matt's shirt further and further up his torso, the redhead could only wonder whether Mello was going to fully remove it, or if the blond was just far too impatient.

He wasn't sure if it was normal to think so much while in the middle of one of the hottest make-out sessions he'd ever experienced.

Before he could think about it any more, though, Mello pulled away abruptly, out of breath and flushed, his lips swollen and very, very red. Matt had to concentrate excruciatingly hard on not leaning in and claiming that tempting mouth again.

After they'd caught their breath, Mello explained his sudden retreat. "If we'd kept on going any longer, there would've been no way I'd have been able to stop."

Matt pouted. "What if I don't want you to stop?"

Mello chuckled softly, pushing Matt's bottom lip back in with his forefinger. "You'd regret it in the morning," he told him, pulling back the rumpled duvet, and settling them both underneath it, kicking off their shoes.

Matt doubted it. He barely had time to ask, "Are we going to sleep in our clothes, then?" before he fell into a deep slumber, thinking sleepily that Mello might just never get his leather pants off again if he were to sleep in them.

Matt wouldn't have minded.


	16. Turbulence

Mello opened his eyes and smiled. A poignant sense of déjà vu hit him as he remembered the last time he'd seen Matt with such a peaceful expression on his sleeping face, no nightmares in sight for once. Though admittedly, their current location was infinitely more comfortable than the armchair had been, even disregarding the accursed blocked nose he'd had at the time.

 _On the subject of comfort..._ Mello thought as he shifted around slightly. His legs appeared to be stuck together. He glanced under the duvet.

_Oh. Trousers._

He'd forgotten they'd gone to sleep in their clothes.

That thought brought all the other memories from the night before rushing back, stunning Mello with their intensity. The too-clear images of flushed skin and darkened eyes had him squirming in heightened discomfort against his clothes.

There was no doubt as to whether he enjoyed such activities with Matt; he could barely restrain himself from leaning over and recreating them all over again. But the whole arrangement they were following...it made Mello feel _guilty_. He had no right to restrict Matt in such a way, and if he were an honourable person, he'd lie and tell Matt there was no way the redhead's feelings would ever be reciprocated and leave, allowing Matt to live a fulfilling, _normal_ life.

However, Mello was not an honourable person (on the contrary, Plato's philosophy about man's egoistic nature was his main proverb), and was all too happy to do what benefited him, as long as there were no complaints from people of importance. Matt was his most important person ever, and he certainly wasn't complaining; Mello could see from the blissful expression on the redhead's face that being with him made Matt happier than was imaginable.

 _But still_...

Mello wondered when he was going to fall in love with Matt – _when_ , not _if_. It was only a matter of time, but Mello wasn't certain as to how much.

He didn't feel like he had a long way to go, but how would he know? His heart had always been closed off, and to open it now would be a Herculean feat. Even so, Mello was sure he'd be able to do it, someday, provided Matt stayed with him for however long it took.

The thought brought yet another stab of guilt to Mello's heart. He felt dirty, taking so much without giving, but there was really nothing else he could do, short of releasing Matt of his presence entirely. And if there was one thing Mello was sure of, it was that he was definitely not strong enough to give up the single person he'd learnt to trust during the entirety of his miserable life.

He wondered whether Matt felt the same towards him, and concluded it was probably so. The redhead evidently felt the same baffling attachment to Mello as the blond felt towards Matt, and had been proven to worry about him the same way Mello worried over the redhead when he was anywhere near danger.

Mello decided that he alone held some darker feelings involving his partner: he was possessive and hatefully jealous of any others who were close to him. That was probably why he'd never really liked the Light kid, Mello realised – the youth had connected with Matt much faster than Mello himself initially had. Despite that, Mello theorised with glee, it was likely that the connection between himself and Matt was to be far longer-lasting than that between Matt and Light. It had been forged during strife and danger, forcing them to trust each other fully, and cementing their bond much more firmly than any other. Mello was sure it would pass the test of time. The blond realised with slight surprise that he could easily see himself together with Matt far into the future: ten years, fifteen years...

Mello's musings trailed off as a single, overwhelming notion entered his mind. He thought back to his time at Wammy's, reading in the library to pass the numerous rainy days, the countless novels he had read with description of feelings of amour.

Mello swallowed, his eyes flickering back to the obliviously slumbering soul next to him.

_Could it be...?_

* * *

"So, now that we've sent Gevanni to scout out the warehouses, what should we do?" asked Matt cheerfully. He'd had a brilliant night's sleep the night before, a thing which only ever seemed to occur when he was next to Mello.

Matt's green eyes darted back to his friend, taking in the pensive, introspective expression on the stunning (if marred) face. Mello had been distant today, greeting him with a murmured "hey" and an all-too-brief peck on the lips when Matt had woken.

Matt wondered whether Mello was getting tired of him already. The thought made his heart hurt so much it felt like it was bleeding. Nevertheless, he hid it well, keeping his grin in place and praising God for inventing goggles.

Indeed, it seemed everyone was in a strange mood today. Light, usually civil and calm, was chewing on his lip, and the state of his hair implied that the youth had forgotten to comb it that morning. The mere possibility of that made Matt shiver at the thought of whatever Light must be going through.

L was unusually unresponsive today, absently chewing on a piece of liquorice and leaving Matt's question unanswered, which both perplexed and irritated the redhead. He knew he wasn't as much of an irreplaceable component of the team as the rest of them, but L could at least try to acknowledge him, even if Matt's questions did seem obvious to the genius.

Near was the one who was most different, though, yet at the same time not different at all. Matt couldn't help but get the feeling that the boy's usually placid, calm thoughts were now in turmoil, tearing at his brain from the inside. And yet, Near was as blank as ever, not a trace of emotion showing on his face or in his voice. However, the turmoil did show: Near was constantly distracted, seemingly unable to play with his usual toys, and, most noticeably, he had failed to greet anyone upon their entry into the investigation room. In a way, that was what worried Matt most.

Matt speculated as to whether the case was straining his team mates. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case with normal people, but everyone in the room, L and Near especially, just seemed so...untouchable, emotionally. They had most probably faced cases like this before, except for perhaps Light, and they would have been far more challenging ones than this.

He knew for a fact that Mello, for one, was not at all concerned about the Jouka Case, which only served to make Matt more stressed, at it meant Mello was worrying about something else, and Matt had no idea what that something else was. Even so, the redhead couldn't help but get the feeling that it was something to do with him. Matt tried not to let the thought terrify him.

Pressing though Mello's case was, Light's was probably the most urgent, Matt admitted. The redhead was finally seeing hints of the parts of Light's character that had caused L to take him under his wing and watch him constantly. Mello had been right: Light seemed unstable. And that instability could only mean one thing, Matt thought gloomily.

_Light's gonna break... Any day now._

Deciding that it was almost certainly unhealthy to be thinking about such stressful things so early in the morning, Matt asked his previous question again. "So...what should we do now?"

Finally, L seemed to draw himself out of his haze. "I...I believe any further research before Gevanni gets back will be fairly pointless, seeing as all we need to know now is where the children are being hidden. Therefore, we should look over the security tapes again, just to make certain there are no hints as to their location."

Matt nodded, then swiftly grabbed Light's wrist and dragged him over to one of the tape-viewing rooms across the corridor. He caught sight of Mello's slightly hurt look, and pulled a face that he hoped was one of sincere apology and urgency. Ironically, though, the communication was apparently intercepted by his normally useful goggles, and Mello's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Matt grimaced as he closed the door behind himself and Light. He was going to have some explaining to do that evening.

In the darkness, Matt fumbled for a light switch, found it, and turned it on, momentarily blinding the both of them.

When their eyes adjusted, Light turned to Matt. "What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes suspicious as well.

Matt sighed mentally. _Do I just have a face that breeds mistrust?_

Out loud, he said. "I want to talk to you. I've been worried."

Light's eyes didn't become any less guarded. "What do you want to talk about?"

Matt slotted a tape into the player and settled onto the sofa to watch the greyscale, flickering room on the screen.

Light remained standing. "Well?" His voice sounded infinitely more brusque than it had when Matt had first met him.

Matt tugged at Light's shirt lightly, prompting the brunet to sit. He did so, but kept a careful distance between himself and Matt. His eyes, too, were trained on the screen.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked quietly, as if afraid to startle his friend.

Light scowled, an expression Matt had never seen on his face before. "What? Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"Well how would you know?!" Light was suddenly furious, his accent becoming more prominent and the volume of his voice making Matt jump.

Matt attempted to calm him. "I'm your friend, and you've been acting really weird these past few days. What is it, Light? Is it something to do with L?"

"No!"

"Then what is it? You can tell me," Matt assured him, abandoning the video and turning to face his friend, so as to analyse his expression with more ease.

Light seemed to hesitate for a second, his eyes locked on the screen and his lip trembling as he debated upon what to say. Then, his eyes glazed over and he stated, "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Matt sighed inaudibly, trying to contain his frustration. He didn't want to make Light angry again. "Please tell me. I might be able to help."

Light snorted in an extremely sarcastic bout of faux-mirth. "I doubt it."

"I can try."

Light's shoulders tensed, and for a horrible moment, Matt thought the brunet was going to hit him. Then, his muscles relaxed and Light slumped over and put his head in his hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he rasped out, his voice raw.

Matt waited for elaboration.

"I – I keep having these dreams. Dreams about my past, and it's horrible, and I can't sleep, and L won't leave me alone! He watches me every second of every damn day and I keep thinking that he's going to put those damned handcuffs on me again!"

Matt made to put a hand on Light's shoulder, then thought better of it and said, "I don't think you should worry about L watching you. He is, it's true, but I don't think he's suspicious of you."

"Of course he is!" Light looked up suddenly, eyes tortured. "He's always suspicious of me! It's like he's waiting for me to betray all of you, to go join the enemy and have them hunt you all down."

Matt shook his head. "No, Light, I've seen the way he looks at you, and I think...I think he's even more worried about you than I am."

Light groaned. "Of course he's worried about me! I'm an insane teenager on the verge of snapping, and he's just waiting for me to go crazy and start hacking up people!"

"Light, calm down! You're being ridiculous!" Matt ignored Light's snarl. "L's worried about _you_ , not what you might do! Can't you see? You're thin and pale and sleep-deprived, and L's worrying so much about your health it's nearly sending him round the bend as well! He cares about you, Light," Matt stressed, leaning forward in his enthusiasm.

Light's face suddenly crumpled. "Please don't say that," he whispered, hiding his face again.

Matt blinked, confused by Light's sudden mood swing. "Why not?"

"Because it's not true, and all you're doing is making me hope for something that can never be, and when that hope is crushed, it'll be so much more painful than it would have been if I had never had any in the first place."

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked, perplexed. "What can never be?"

"Don't make me say it," Light begged piteously.

And suddenly Matt understood. He ignored his better judgement and scooted closer to Light, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Light flinched away at first, but eventually he relaxed again, leaning into Matt's body and hiding his face in Matt's shoulder instead of his own hands.

Matt wound his other arm around Light as well, and held him in an embrace that he had so often wished his mother would hold him in.

"I know how you feel," he whispered softly, his eyes closed. "I really, really know. I felt it too. But you know what? Those fears came to nothing, and the tiny, minuscule amount of hope I did have turned into real happiness. You have to let yourself hope, Light, it'll kill you not to. And yeah, it hurts when hope's crushed, but if it's not – and trust me, no matter what you think, _I_ think the chances of your hope being for something are way higher than not – it's so worth it. I know you have it way worse than I do, but if you don't let yourself have some little light to guide you through the dark, you'll never find your way out. Take a chance, Light. Come on, your mum must have given you that name for a reason. Let yourself be happy." Matt refused to think about the completely separate stress his...arrangement with Mello was causing.

Light's shoulders convulsed, and Matt thought he could feel salt water soaking through his shirt.

"Thank you, Matt." Light's voice was barely audible. "But I don't think I can ever be happy."

Before Matt could protest, the door opened and L stepped in. Whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips and he stood there, frozen in place, a forgotten lollipop in his hand.

Light whipped around to face him. He said something in Japanese that was so fast it was just a blur of syllables, but even Matt could pick up on the harshness of the sentence.

L was silent a moment longer, staring at the damp path on Matt's T-shirt and the lone tear still clinging onto Light's cheek before his face smoothed out into its usual blank mask and he said, "My apologies, but Gevanni has returned earlier than expected."

Light stormed out of the room, wiping his eyes and neatly avoiding any physical contact with the psychologist.

Matt stopped when he reached the doorway, green eyes locking with L's dark ones. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked.

L looked at the floor. "I do not know."

And in that moment, Matt knew for certain that L's concern for Light was of such a magnitude that Matt would never be able to understand.

He left the room.

* * *

"I apologise, but I could not get close enough to any of the warehouses to get a good look," Gevanni was saying: formally, and addressing the back wall rather than their group, "There were many people around, and I didn't want to risk being seen by anyone connected to Four-Field or Palm."

"That is fine, Gevanni may leave now," Near stated rather than said, his voice even more detached than usual.

Gevanni saluted and walked briskly out of the sliding doors.

Mello scowled briefly. "Well, that makes things more complicated," he said bitterly. "Now what?"

L thought for a moment. "We could try again at a later date," he said. "A different time, perhaps, when there is less of an audience."

The group (or rather, Mello, Matt and L) debated alternate plans of infiltration, but eventually concluded that L's was the most reasonable idea. Gevanni would be sent out again that night.

"In that case, there is nothing else left to do today," L declared. "You may spend the rest of the day as you wish, provided you do not leave the building."

Matt sighed. He understood the necessity of staying out of sight, but even he, who hated the outdoors with a fiery intensity, was starting to miss the freedom of at least having the option of going outside.

Then he remembered Mello, and his heart started thudding as if it had just run a marathon, outdoors or no outdoors.

Indeed, the adrenalin was needed, for as soon as they stepped out of the lift, Mello grabbed his arm and dragged him into the sitting room, where he flung Matt down on the sofa.

"Well? What was that about?" the blond asked, his eyes glinting menacingly.

Matt feigned innocence. "What was what about?"

Mello's eyes narrowed, reminding Matt of the very first time they'd spoken. "Why'd you go off with that Light kid so eagerly?" Matt could tell Mello was trying his utmost not to sound jealous. Matt could also tell Mello was failing miserably.

"I wanted to talk to him. Light's been acting...off for a while."

Mello snorted. "Like I hadn't noticed."

Matt frowned slightly. "Don't you care at all? He looks like he's going to keel over any day now!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. He's crazy, these things happen."

"Light is _not_ crazy!" Matt was starting to get annoyed.

"And _you_ are deluded!" Mello shouted back. "He's getting like that because he's ready to snap, and when he does, he'll completely explode, probably try to kill whoever's nearest, and then either stay like that forever or go back to how he used to be. My bet is he'll stay bat-shit."

" _Shut up_!" Matt screamed.

Mello appeared to be surprised into silence, for once.

"Why are you always so cruel about him?! He can't help his mental state! He's been through so much, and –"

Mello cut in. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Matt hesitated. "He – uh...his girlfriend, um...died, and..."

Mello sneered. "Oh, I see now, thanks for explaining that to me. I feel so enlightened." Dropping the farce, he said, "You know just as little about his mental state as I do, maybe even less. Don't go running your mouth off about things you don't understand."

Matt clenched his fists. "If you think I'm so ignorant, why do you even hang around? I can see you're getting tired of me already, and it's only been two days since we started...whatever it is we're in now. It's cruel of you to give me hope that we could be together and then just take it away! You're a dickhead, you know that?"

"And what makes you think you know what's going through my head, asshole? What if I'm not getting tired of you?"

Matt paused.

"It's nice to see you have so much trust in me," Mello continued tartly, "It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know you're just waiting with baited breath for me to show the slightest signs that I might dump you and leave you to fend for yourself. Inadequately, I might add."

Matt couldn't take it anymore. He got up and walked out of the room, back straight and stiff, and tears smarting in his eyes.

 _Sorry, Light_ , he thought morosely. _Happiness after hope isn't all I cracked it up to be._

He cried himself to sleep.

* * *

At one o'clock in the morning, Mello was awoken by the opening of his door. Though one couldn't really call it 'awakening' if one hadn't been sleeping. And one couldn't really call it 'opening' if the door had been open the whole time, either.

"Mello?" Matt's voice whispered in the dark.

"Mm?" Mello answered, not turning around.

"I had a nightmare."

Without a word, Mello lifted his duvet, allowing Matt to crawl in underneath it. The redhead kept a respectful distance between their bodies, but Mello rolled over and embraced him, finally relaxing into Matt's unique scent.

Matt hugged him back, so tightly it almost hurt. "I didn't mean it," he whispered.

Mello kissed him tenderly. He hadn't meant it either.

Jealousy was a frightening thing.


	17. Breaking

_Misa pressed the gun into his hand._

" _Kill me," she whispered._

_Light's eyes widened. "No! I can't!" His hands were sweaty with distress, and the repulsive metal of the gun slipped in his slick palm._

_Misa gestured with her gloved hands. "Do it, Light! You'll be better off without Misa. You should be happy," she told him, "you've gone to all the trouble of cheating on Misa to avoid her company after all. Now you'll be able to get rid of me forever!"_

_Light would have sighed in exasperation if he wasn't so terrified. "Misa, for the last time, I never cheated on you!" he shouted desperately._

" _Don't lie to me!"_

"I'm not lying _! You're deluded!"_

" _You_ are _lying to Misa!" she screamed, "You didn't even want to be part of this relationship in the first place!"_

_Light did sigh this time. "You blackmailed me into going out with you by threatening my family. Of course I didn't want it, but that doesn't change the fact that I've never cheated on you!"_

" _So now you're_ admitting _that you don't want anything to do with Misa!" There was a glint in her eye that chilled Light to the bone._

" _I never said that!" he cried, desperate to get her to stop this insanity. "Misa –"_

_Misa snatched the gun from his clammy hands, raised it to her temple and pulled the trigger._

_Light watched her crumple to the floor in horror, barely noticing the gun skittering away across the concrete. He fell to his knees beside her, completely numb, even though he could feel her blood soaking through his trouser legs._

_He had never loved Misa. He had never even liked her, paranoid lunatic that she was, but the scars of trauma she had left him with were going to be with him for a long time._

_This was her final act of cruelty._

_Light soon realised his own misconception when he heard police sirens in the distance. His sluggish gaze drifted over to the abandoned pistol, then to Misa's gloved hands._

Fingerprints _, he thought with muted dread._

_Misa hadn't finished with him yet._

* * *

_He was in a prison cell, and it was exactly like he'd seen in the movies: cold, concrete and horribly bare. The food was awful, and the tiny room stank of anger, tears and despair._

" _This will be your diagnostic psychologist," came the cold, professional voice of the prison warden. Unlike in the movies, he wasn't a cruel man bent on torturing his prisoners, but he certainly wasn't friendly._

_Light looked up briefly, seeing two pairs of shoes. One was the too-familiar patent leather_ _belonging to the warden, and the other was a pair of scuffed trainers, the laces loose and trailing. The owner didn't even appear to be wearing socks._

_Slowly, Light's eyes travelled upwards, taking in the oddest man he had ever seen in his life. His hair was like a nest of raven's feathers, sticking up at every which angle. His skin was pale, too pale to be Asian, and Light wondered whether he was fully Western, or if he was a Half. He wore baggy, oversized clothes that only emphasized his painfully skinny frame, and his eyes were like bottomless pools of apathy, giving the impression that the strange man had the ability to see into another's head and know all their secrets. He was sucking on a pink lollipop._

_The man opened his mouth, and said in precise, perfect Japanese, "Hello, Yagami-kun. I am L."_

* * *

" _Yagami-kun, please be reasonable about this," L said, not showing any emotion in the slightest, apart from a hint of exasperation._

" _How can I be_ reasonable _?!" Light shouted, furious and frustrated, "I've been proven innocent and you're_ still _keeping me under custody!"_

_L sighed quietly. "As I have explained before, I am not doing so for a reason that includes the murder you were accused of."_

_Light nearly screamed aloud. "That just makes it even worse! What_ is _your reason, then?!"_

" _Your mental health."_

"What _?!" Light would have strangled the man, if it hadn't meant he'd spend the rest of his life behind bars._

_L elaborated. "You are not mentally stable enough to re-enter the general public. Whether this is a result of the trauma Amane Misa caused you or a separate cause, I have yet to assess."_

"I'm not mad _!" Light yelled, making his own ears ring._

" _No, Yagami-kun, you are not mad."_

 _If Light had had a gun, he would have shot someone in that moment, and he wasn't too sure it would have just been L, either. "Then why the_ fuck _are you extending my sentence to until I'm eighteen?!"_

" _It is not a sentence, Yagami-kun, it is –"_

" _I don't care what it is, why are you making me suffer it if I'm not mad?" Light's voice cracked up a couple of octaves, like it hadn't done since he was fourteen._

" _Because you are showing signs of nearing a breaking point, which, when you reach it, will make you dangerous to yourself and others around you." L explained, as if he were telling Light the weather. "Therefore, you need to be under constant supervision by a trained professional – to be exact, myself."_

" _...You're insane," Light stated blankly, the fire completely gone from his voice as he stared at L in incredulity._

" _Actually, Yagami-kun, in order to get my licence, I had to pass an inspection that has proven I have no –"_

" _Oh, shut up, you know what I meant."_

" _There were several possible meanings to your words, and –"_

" _Just shut_ up _!"_

* * *

_Light regarded L with trepidation. "No way in hell," he told the psychologist decisively._

" _Come now, Yagami-kun," L reasoned, "It's just temporary safety measures."_

 _Light stared at the handcuffs in L's hands. "_ Safety measures _?! There is no way in_ hell _you are putting those on me," he declared._

" _Do not worry, only one of your hands will be chained," L reassured him, not very reassuringly._

_Light narrowed his eyes in understandable suspicion. "...So why are there two manacles?"_

" _The other will be attached to myself," L told him brightly._

 _Light was silent for a few stunned moments. Then: "Okay, now there's_ definitely _no way in hell. Have you even_ heard _of human rights?!"_

_L blinked at him in the infuriatingly slow way of his. "In actual fact I have, but am choosing to disregard them for now."_

" _They're not_ optional _!"_

" _They are for me, Yagami-kun."_

* * *

" _Light-kun." L's voice snapped Light out of his daydream, in which he had been happily back at home with his family._

" _Yes?" Light answered, tiredly. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, which was ironic, seeing as it was the first night in God knew how long that Light had been free of handcuffs. Who'd have thought he'd actually get used to having the crazy psychologist beside him while he slept?_

" _We have been invited to work on a case in England," L said, munching on something. Light suspected it was a fruit chew from the packet he had seen on the kitchen counter earlier that day._

" _Have we now?" The news didn't really surprise Light; L got asked to help with cases all the time. According to rumour, he'd been a world-famous detective before he got into psychology. However, L had turned down all such offers since Light had come into his care. Apparently, a child such as he was not to be trusted outside of the heavily-guarded building they were currently in._

" _Yes. I would suggest you pack as many warm things as possible; it is going to be Winter there soon, and the temperatures get quite –"_

" _Wait, what?!" Light interrupted._

_L blinked at him. "I was just suggesting what clothing you should pack."_

" _You're going to let me work on a case?" Light was stunned._

" _Yes," L replied, as if it was obvious. "Why wouldn't I?"_

" _Oh, no reason," Light said airily, "apart from maybe the fact that you've barely let me out of the building for the past year!"_

_L chewed his thumb. "I thought it was longer than that..." he mused._

_Light gritted his teeth. "Either way, why the change of heart?"_

" _I am theorising that contact with humans other than myself may aid your mental health and postpone your inevitable snapping," L told him, as if Light hadn't known that since the first week of his imprisonment._

" _Why England? Why not let me go out while I'm in the country?"_

_L shrugged. "I believe the further you are from the places you went with Amane Misa, the better it will be for your mental state."_

" _You think that going away will make everything better?" Light spat viciously, "You think that out of sight means out of mind? I see her blood every time I close my_ eyes _, L!"_

_L sighed. "Yes, but there is no need to aggravate the wound additionally. On a separate note, the person requesting my aid is someone I am rather fond of, and if this case has caught his attention, it will no doubt be interesting."_

_Light rolled his eyes. Of course, everything had to be interesting for The Great L._

" _I trust you know English, Light-kun?" L inquired, cocking his head to one side._

_Light nodded briefly. "I took separate tutoring in the language. I thought it would be useful."_

_L looked as pleased as one can without smiling. "Good. We will be boarding the plane at four am tomorrow morning."_

_Light choked._ "What _?! Four?!"_

" _It is a private jet."_

" _So fly at a human time, then!"_

" _Near requires our presence at seven am GMT, so therefore we need to leave the city at four am JST. It is simple mathematics, Light-kun."_

_Light just put his face in his hands and calculated what time he'd have to go to bed to even be partially awake at four in the morning. He didn't like the answer._

* * *

" _Light-kun...we shouldn't do this." L's voice was hushed, but had an underlying tone of panic and excitement, which only served to thrill Light more. The psychologist barely ever showed emotion._

" _Do you want to stop?" he asked huskily, looking L in the eye from his position looming over the older man._

_L swallowed, before drawing Light down into another passionate kiss._

_It was desperate, almost violent, their kiss. Light could taste sweets and sugar on L's tongue, the flavour only adding to the arousing nature of their actions._

_L was biting down on his bottom lip, causing pain, but not enough to deter him. The elder wanted this just as much as he did, after all._

_Light's hands made their way up to L's hair, burying themselves the soft, fluffy strands that felt so different to how they looked._

_L wound his arms even tighter around Light's back, drawing them closer together. And then –_

* * *

Light's eyes snapped open, an involuntary gasp tearing from his lips. He stared at the ceiling in disbelief before noticing the...problem he had.

Cursing his wandering subconscious, Light curled up and tried to will his throbbing Problem away. He had no idea how the fragments of fairly innocent (if distressing) memory had morphed into... _that_. Did humans go into heat? There had to be some explanation for the completely nonsensical scenario his dreams had graced him with.

Light groaned at the memory. Of course, he knew he was attracted to L, had known for a while now, even though he'd initially tried to ignore his feelings and hoped they'd go away. Now there was no escaping it, it seemed, and no escaping the fact that all this sexual frustration was for _nothing_. It was only natural this happened once in a way; he was a seventeen year-old boy after all, and he hadn't gotten any for nearly two years. But still...why now? Why _him_?

Light groaned again. The Problem didn't go away.

"Light-kun?"

 _Shit_! Light screamed inwardly, covering himself hastily with the duvet.

L was standing in the doorway. "Is everything alright?" he asked, walking over to the bed.

Light gritted his teeth to avoid shouting at his guardian. "Fine, until _you_ decided to waltz in unannounced," he snapped.

L ignored him. He sat down gently on the bed, drawing his knees to his chest in his customary fashion.

Light almost died on the inside. "Go _away_ ," he hissed viciously, giving L the most poisonous glare he could manage.

"Are you going to punch me again?" L asked curiously, gesturing to the fading bruise on his left cheek.

Light glowered at him. "I'm seriously thinking about it."

L smiled slightly, effectively wiping Light's glare off his face and replacing it with a look of astonishment. Then his expression turned to one of horror as L sniffed the air.

"It smells different to usual in here," the psychologist observed, sniffing again.

Light could feel his stomach shrivelling up.

L smelt the air a while longer, then looked sharply over at Light.

Light avoided eye contact and inwardly committed suicide.

L got to his feet hurriedly (for him), taking a few steps back from the bed.

"I suppose I should leave you to...sleep," he said awkwardly, shuffling his feet slightly.

Light just closed his eyes and smothered the need to groan in humiliation.

L high-tailed it.

Light buried his face in the pillow, his Problem worse than ever, and cursed life, the universe and everything. He sincerely hoped things would be better in the morning. Unfortunately, Fate seemed to quite enjoy tormenting him.

 _This is definitely my punishment_ , Light thought morbidly.

He didn't go back to sleep that night.

* * *

"I have some unfortunate news," Near informed Matt and Mello as they entered the room, not looking at either of them.

"What is it?" Mello asked with trepidation, not entirely sure he wanted to hear it. Matt wasn't sure either.

"Gevanni failed a second time to infiltrate the warehouses. It appears they are all more closely guarded than their official status as empty warrants. This increases our suspicion, but doesn't narrow down the places the children could be. The other warehouses could be storing opium and the like, after all," Near said, without even the slightest inflection.

Matt restrained the urge to slam a hand into his forehead. This was ridiculous; they weren't getting anywhere. "We'll just have to think up a different way to get into the buildings, then," he said aloud.

L nodded in agreement. "That would be the best course of action, yes."

Matt looked over at Light, who was sitting as far away from L as humanly possible. The youth had a look of sharp concentration on his face, and his eyes were calculating.

Matt wondered what hare-brained scheme he was cooking up.

"We could just force our way in," Mello offered, "Though we'd have to hire more operatives to be sure of getting through."

L shook his head. "It would be unwise to draw that much attention to ourselves. If we failed, Four-Field would have a chance to attack us in turn, and with their influence, I doubt we would have much chance of winning."

"But what, then?" Matt asked in exasperation. Talking around in circles wasn't getting them anywhere. "We don't have many more options."

"I think I have an idea," Light said quietly. All eyes turned to him. "We need to find these children, right? And we're not even fully certain that they're in these warehouses."

"So your point is...?" Mello prompted, impatient.

"What if we get Four-Field and Palm themselves to take us to the children?"

They all stared at him. Even Near looked slightly confused.

"How the fuck would we do that?!" Mello demanded. "I'm pretty sure going up and saying 'pretty please' wouldn't work!"

Light looked him solidly in the eye. "I know that. I'm suggesting that we trick them into taking us there."

"Again: how?!" Mello was visibly frustrated.

"One of us gets kidnapped."

There was a silence.

"The ages of the children taken are between fourteen and seventeen, correct? I'm in that age group, so if I snoop around a safehouse of Palm and generally look like I know something I shouldn't, they'll get suspicious and kidnap me to certify I'll be unable to tell anyone whatever I've found. If you place a tracking device on me, you'll be able to see my location, and therefore where the children are being imprisoned. Then you break in with the police, arrest anyone you can find, interrogate them and bring the companies down. It'll be simple!"

"So...you're saying you'll hand yourself over to Palm just so we can find out where they're keeping the kids?" Mello asked in disbelief, eyes wide.

Light nodded determinedly. "I'm the only person in the group who's in the correct age range, apart from Near-san, who is needed here. It's the only option we have."

Loath as he was to have Light in danger, Matt could see the necessity, simplicity and genius of the plan.

"I see..." said Near, looking more alive than he had in days (which wasn't much, but it was still an improvement), "If we conduct the rescue mission quickly enough, Light will not be in any serious danger. The only problem is that we have evidence that the clothes of the children are taken away. How would we make sure the tracking device stays undiscovered?"

Matt piped up. "A few years ago, I invented a tracker that can be swallowed. It's only a short-term thing, for obvious reasons, but it'll definitely be long enough for us to rescue Light."

"That's brilliant!" Mello grinned, elated at finally having the chance to bring the culprits to justice.

"That is unacceptable."

Everyone turned to stare at L with stunned expressions.

"What?" Mello asked incredulously.

"Light-kun is far too young to undergo such a mission. He has no experience, and is therefore a liability," L stated flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Light managed to find room anyway. "What are you talking about?! I'm only just young enough to _qualify_ for this mission, and I'm perfectly capable of walking around and getting kidnapped! You're being completely unreasonable!"

"I have to agree," Matt cut in.

L shot him a silencing glare. "There will be too much risk involved. My word is final: Light-kun will not be going on this mission."

They all gaped at him, apart from Near, whose eyebrows had only raised slightly.

Light suddenly jumped up and stormed out of the room, his hands shaking.

Matt hesitated only a few seconds before standing to run after his friend. He glanced at Mello, who smiled slightly and nodded his head.

Matt sprinted to catch up with Light.

"Light, wait! What are you doing? We can still convince L to let you on the mission! Everyone knows he's being ridiculous; it's only a matter of time until we wear him down!"

"He'll never wear down." Light's voice was trembling too, and his hands were clenched so hard that the tremors racking them travelled all the way up his arms. "He'll never agree to let me go anywhere without someone to watch me twenty-four/seven."

"Light..."

The brunet put his face in his hands, and Matt saw a tear trickling from between his fingers. "He doesn't trust me! He never has! He's sees me as a petty child who'll take the smallest chance to betray everyone just to get back at him for taking my family away from me! He hates me!"

Matt watched his friend sob for a few moments in silence, before turning on his heel and walking away.

As he re-entered the investigation room, Matt heard Mello and Near trying to convince L to change his mind.

"Come on, L, it's nearly foolproof, and –"

Matt marched over to where L sat and stood in front of the man, arms folded and face stony. "Listen dude," he said coldly, "I may not be a psychologist, but I know distraught when I see it. Go talk to him. Now."

To everyone's surprise, L obeyed.

* * *

Light heard shuffling footsteps approaching him and wished he'd taken the chance to run to his bedroom and lock the door while he'd had it, childish or no.

He sniffed and wiped at his tears, even though they were replaced immediately.

"It is awfully puerile to cry like a toddler when you do not get your way," L's voice said from behind him.

Light snapped.

He whipped around and punched the psychologist in the face as hard as he could, causing L to stumble back a few steps before Light hit him again and he went down.

"It's not a matter of me not getting my way!" Light screamed in Japanese, completely losing his command of English, "It's a matter of you being so suspicious of me you won't even let me out of your sight for five minutes, lest I betray you all! I've been living with it for nearly a year and a half now, and I can't take it anymore! You see me as an infuriating child and I'm _done_ being patronised by you as if I'm barely worthy to be in your presence!"

L blinked up at him from his position on the floor of the corridor. "I never said I saw you as a child," he said, still maddeningly calm.

"You didn't _need_ to say it, did you?!" Light screamed. Even as he raged, a completely separate thought crossed his mind, and he wondered whether he'd finally lost it after all.

"Fine," L said, getting up. He looked Light in the eye. "I do not see you as a child. I did at first, yes, but recently, you have...grown up."

Light regarded him with suspicion, still sceptical.

"And I do trust you, more than you probably know, but –"

"So why won't you let me out of your sight?!"

" _But_ ," L continued, "your mental state is delicate. If you had reached your breaking point while I was not around, you would probably have injured yourself, and I cannot let that happen. It is the same with this mission: I refuse to allow you to be hurt, physically or emotionally."

Light snarled. "You've done a pretty good job of hurting me yourself!" he accused viciously. "You hardly need any help with that!"

L looked away. "I realise that," he said quietly. "I apologise for my initial mistrust of you, Light-kun."

"I don't want your apology, and I don't want to be protected! I – I...want to be your equal," Light muttered, losing his bluster somewhat.

"You already are."

Light was shocked into silence, looking at L with confused eyes.

L sighed quietly and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he opened them and said, "What do you see me as, Light-kun?"

Light's breath caught in his throat, and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop. The blood drained from his face and he could distantly feel his hands beginning to shake anew, for completely different reasons.

_He knows, he knows, he knows..._

"My theories are that you could either see me as a bodyguard, a prison keeper, a guardian or a tormentor; possibly more than one. Am I right?"

Light shook his head mutely. He didn't want to give L any more hints. However, he risked a simple denial, "No, I don't...I never saw you as that. I – I don't hate you." To divert the direction of conversation before he could say anything stupid, Light mumbled, "And what about you? What do you see me as?"

L smiled slightly. "I see Light-kun as my first and only friend, and have done for a while now."

Light blinked, uncomprehending. L saw him as a friend? L _liked_ him? Not in the way Light secretly wished for, of course, but it was still completely unprecedented.

Before he could regain control of his body, his arms shot out and embraced L in a way that was entirely unfamiliar, certainly against the rules and yet completely blissful.

"Thank you, L," he murmured in the man's ear.

_I have a friend._

L stiffened and pushed him away, not unkindly, but that didn't stop Light's heart from tearing itself in two. Suddenly, the youth was in complete control of his body again, and Light didn't like it one bit.

L stepped back a short distance. "It would be best if you do not make such physical contact with me," he said matter-of-factly.

Light knew the agony was showing on his face, and that there was nothing he could do to hide it now.

L looked at him for a while, scrutinising Light's face in concentration. Then his expression softened, and he explained. "I admit that some of my feelings for you are not socially acceptable. A charge of paedophilia would not be good for my career, and more importantly, you and I would be separated permanently. I realise that this will most likely happen anyway when you turn eighteen, but for my own, selfish reasons, I would prefer to stay with you for as long as the law will allow," he said calmly.

Light's jaw hit the floor.

There was an excruciatingly awkward silence for a few minutes, until Light regained the power of speech and said, "Are you kidding me?" He'd had no idea. Absolutely no idea.

L shook his head, staring intently at the floor. "I will understand if you wish to leave now, in light of what I have just told you, but –"

Light hugged him again, tighter this time.

L tried in vain to pull away. "Light-kun..."

Light threw all caution to the wind and kissed the psychologist gently on the corner of his lips, not quite as he'd been wanting to do for months, but near enough.

L stared at Light as he pulled away, his eyes for once showing some of his disbelief. "I don't understand," he said bluntly.

Light ignored that. "We can't get in trouble unless someone reports us, and anyway, I'm nearly a legal adult now."

L's expression finally thawed enough to show a hint of a smile. "Only in this country, Light-kun. You will not be a legal adult in Japan until you are twenty years of age."

"Not the point."

L's smile grew a little bit. "I am...pleasantly surprised to learn that you see me in the same way as I see you, but –"

Light cut him off. "Can you just shut up for a minute and realise that if we're both willing, refusing this is pointless, and unless we're very stupid indeed, we won't be discovered, and we definitely won't get accused of anything. Stop cutting your nose off to spite your face and let me have this. Please. I really will go insane if you say no."

L considered it for a while, and then stepped away from Light's embrace. Light surrendered himself to heartbreak and ultimate doom.

He stared at the ground and subsequently missed the fond smile playing across L's lips. As such, he was not a little surprised when L took his hand and pecked him on the cheek.

Blinking like an idiot, he managed to stutter out a "huh?!" before L spoke.

"Seeing as this does seem to make you happy, I will ignore my better judgement and follow your wishes. I hope you do not start to have second thoughts about this," he warned, but Light could hear the joke in them.

He smiled properly for the first time in weeks. "Fine, but only if you don't have second thoughts either."

"Agreed."

As they walked back to the investigation room where Near, Mello and Matt waited, Light sighed. "I suppose you still won't let me go on this mission, huh? Seeing as there's still the risk of me snapping or whatever."

"On the contrary," L surprised him (again) by saying, "You snapped just a few minutes ago, though you probably did not even realise, and returned to normal. There is a very small chance that you will snap again after this."

Light looked at him in confusion. "Really?"

L nodded.

"So you'll let me do this mission?"

L hesitated only a moment before saying, "I'm not exactly complacent about having you in the bowels of the enemy, but I can see the necessity of your idea. It really is very clever, Light-kun."

Light's heart swelled with pride. "Thank you, L."

"And thank you, Light-kun."


	18. Preparation

Matt was still more than half asleep when Mello started talking.

"Matty?"

Matt tried to remember how vocal cords worked. "Hnng?" he replied eloquently, eyes still tightly shut.

"What do you suppose happened when Light and L were out?"

"Aay-uh-nuuh..." Matt mumbled, wondering if the garbled sounds coming out of his mouth were recognisable as 'I don't know'. He didn't think so.

Mello chuckled, probably at his half-asleep talking, before ruffling his hair.

 _Great_ , Matt thought distantly, _now, instead of just looking like a semi-conscious retard, I look like a semi-conscious, retarded pompom._

"I don't know either," admitted Mello, "But when they came back...L looked happier than I've ever seen him." Matt could hear Mello's amazement. The idea of L being able to feel happiness _was_ pretty astounding, he admitted it.

"Weereey?" he yawned.

"Hm," Mello affirmed. "Light too. I dunno, the kid just seemed less... _manic_ than before. I think whatever happened out there's fixed his mental state for good."

Matt was pleased at the news, but really couldn't be bothered to say anything to indicate his feelings on the matter. He settled for nuzzling into Mello's chest instead.

Mello was stroking his back, and Matt had a horrible suspicion his own body was betraying him and _purring._

 _Never mind,_ he thought, _I'll just take Mello's chocolate hostage if he teases me about it later._

Such was his last thought as he drifted back into the depths of sleep. He dreamt he felt Mello kiss his forehead in the darkness.

* * *

"Now you be careful," Matt warned, though to be completely honest, it sounded more like a threat.

Light rolled his eyes. "Yes, for the fifth and final time, I will be. You don't have to worry."

Matt ignored him. "I'm serious; you don't have the tracker in you, so if you get nabbed, we're all fucked."

"You only have the one," Light reminded him. "It's not like there's an alternative way! I'll be around there for all of ten minutes, you'll see me again within the hour."

"We better." Again, it sounded like a threat.

Light was about to give up and walk off when Mello stopped him.

"Hey, Light," he called through a mouthful of chocolate.

Light turned to face him. "Yes, Mello-san?"

"Don't accidentally stab yourself with the knife we gave you, alright?" the blond teased.

Light looked at him, apparently unamused, but Matt thought he saw the shadow of a smile on his face. "I'll try my best," he assured him.

His hand was on the doorknob when he was stopped again.

"Light-kun."

"What now?!" Light spun around to fix an exasperated look on L. "It's only the pre-infiltration scout-out; what are you lot going to be like before the real thing?"

L disregarded his words. "Take care," he said quietly.

Light smiled, nodded, and left the room. Commander Rester followed.

There was a brief silence before Matt swivelled in his chair to eye L with suspicion. "What happened between you two yesterday? You're both remarkably cheerful today."

L blanked him. "As we cannot do very much until Light-kun returns, I suggest we –"

"Oi!" Matt interrupted, put out. "Don't use selective hearing on me! Anyway, what the hell? You're only, what, twenty-five? You can't fool me into thinking you're going deaf already."

L ignored him again, making Mello snicker. "You may as well give up," the blond advised Matt, "He can be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be."

"More stubborn than you?" Matt teased, though he knew poking fun at Mello could only end with someone getting held at gunpoint.

"I doubt it," Near surprised them all by saying.

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, dumb question. Never mind. So, L, what _did_ happen between you and Light?"

L looked at him, obviously deciding that ignoring Matt was getting him nowhere. "Nothing of note," he said offhandedly.

Matt glared at him and was about to ask again, when Mello cut him off. "Ah, shut it, Matt. It's more fun to guess, anyway."

Both his and Matt's faces morphed into identical ear-to-ear grins.

 _Yup,_ Matt agreed with glee, _definitely more fun to guess._

* * *

"I will follow you surreptitiously, so you will have assistance if the need arises," Commander Rester was telling Light, who was dutifully daydreaming. He and L had gone over the plan in so much detail the night before that he could probably recite it in his sleep.

As Rester droned on, Light smiled at the thought of the psychologist. Now he had been convinced that L wasn't suspicious to the point of obsession when it came to the youth, it was a lot easier to accept his own...unorthodox feelings towards his guardian. Before, when his mind was hardly in a state to rationally think over such things anyway, he had tried to ignore his emotions, locking them away in some deep, dark dungeon in his mind. He had persuaded himself to believe that things were better that way, and that he was less vulnerable to pain, but he had been wrong.

Light was currently happier than he had been in three years.

His father would blow a gasket if he found out, of course, and Light was going to have to tell him eventually, but he thought that could wait a few years. He did not need his father, head of the Japanese Police Force, to arrest L on charges of homosexual paedophilia. That would complicate matters.

He might tell his family when he was twenty-two. That would be a sufficient time after his twentieth birthday to develop a serious relationship, Light estimated. His parents weren't stupid, and if he suddenly burst out with his relationship with L on the day of his twentieth birthday, they would know the relationship would have existed for a while. His mother probably wouldn't mind, as long as Light was happy, and his sister Sayu would be over the moon, but again, his father...

Light shrugged. The man didn't own him.

But then again, he didn't want to give his father a heart attack when he sprang the news upon him...

"Sir?" Rester's voice brought him back to the present.

Light started slightly. "Hm?"

"I was just saying you should probably start scouting now, sir," the man told him.

"Oh, okay." Light opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement. The Palm safehouse that Mello had identified was a few streets away; about a five minute walk.

Light set off. The area he was in wasn't wealthy, that much was obvious: half the buildings were derelict, and Light couldn't even see a window frame that wasn't either empty or boarded up.

The place may once have been an affluent industrial estate, full of car garages and factories, but now it was the perfect setting for a cheesy horror movie. Light half-expected to see a werewolf jump out of a dark corner.

Glancing at a rusting street sign, Light recognised the name of one of the streets in the area he and L had examined on the map the day before. The safehouse was a left and a second right away.

Rounding the corner quickly, Light subtly checked over his shoulder for Rester. He didn't see anything, which either meant Rester was exceptionally good at his job, or he was in this alone.

Light gulped. He didn't like to think of his possible fates if that was indeed the case. But Rester was absolutely trustworthy; the fact that Near-san had deigned to let the man work for him attested to that.

 _I have nothing to worry about_ , Light convinced himself. The thought had no effect on his steadily quickening heartbeat.

Well, at least he still had one. For now.

Rounding the corner that led him onto the street he was looking for, Light saw what looked like a crumbling warehouse a few hundred metres away. It was in an awful state of repair, but Light suspected hidden insulation and support beams made the building a lot more habitable on the inside.

Doing his best to look as suspicious as possible, Light skulked towards the back of the safehouse, keeping to the shadows. He couldn't see any lights on in the building, which made sense, seeing as any electricity supply that may have once been supplied to the place was almost certainly long gone now. Then again, it made Light worry that Mello-san had been wrong, and that this _wasn't_ a safehouse for Palm. The blond ex-mafioso wouldn't have lied outright, of course, but it was possible for Palm to have abandoned this building since his excommunication. The police were fairly competent in this area, after all, though nothing compared to Near-san's intellect.

Light's worries were eased and simultaneously replaced with new, more urgent ones as a tall, threatening figure stepped out of a doorway he'd just passed.

Light slowly turned to face the man, desperately trying to remember Mello-san's instructions on how to open a flick-knife quickly enough to serve any use. He knew Rester was behind him somewhere, keeping an eye on the situation, but if this man got it into his head to shoot Light, there wasn't really much anyone would be able to do.

Turning around fully, Light was surprised to see that the intimidating man behind him was in fact female.

"What you doin' here, kid?" she demanded in a voice that, though deep, was undoubtedly feminine.

Light decided to adopt the persona of a clueless foreigner. God knew it had gotten him out of a thousand complicated situations before.

"Excuse me," he gasped in an overly-exaggerated accent, "I not know good English, I am very sorry, I do not understand."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here," she repeated, very slowly, as if he were a moron. "Fucking tourists," she muttered under her breath.

Light's carefully-constructed mask lit up in relieved comprehension. "Ah, I am lost! I do not know way back to hotel, so I am lost. Do you know way back to hotel?" he asked hopefully.

He was met with a disbelieving stare. "Ain't no hotels 'round here," she told him, looking more suspicious by the second.

Light cursed inwardly. Yes, of course. This place was so far from the tourist-ridden ritzy end of town it was practically a different world. He tried to redeem himself. "Sorry, I not know what you say. But we went on a...a bus? I not know. We go on a big red car to see sights, and I look for too long at sights, so car leave me behind."

The woman's hand shifted minutely to her waistband, where no doubt a gun holster was concealed. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said sarcastically, "Loads of sights to see 'round here. It's like fucking Madame Tussauds 'round here. Now why are you really here, kid?"

Light decided illiterate conversation was futile and made a break for it.

"Oi!" he heard the woman shout, just before a gunshot cracked in the night air.

Light felt the bullet whizz just past his head, and veered to the extreme left, weaving back and forth, making sure his movements were untrackable.

Another gunshot.

And then he could see Rester, with a gun of his own in hand, firing back. Light skidded down the first off-street he saw, desperate to get out of the cross-fire.

A few streets away, he collapsed, gasping, against a wall. The gunfire had stopped, which could only mean either one of them was dead, or one of them had retreated. Both outcomes would result in more people out for his blood.

Light decided to make himself scarce.

He dived down a series of alleys and arrived at the car he and Rester had parked earlier in less than three minutes. Rester was already there, though it appeared he had only been so for a few moments, as he was just getting into the car. He saw Light coming and opened the passenger door for him.

As Light jumped in, Rester gave his brief report:

"We exchanged fire for approximately one minute, after which the enemy retreated into the safehouse, no doubt to alert her companions of our presence. I took it upon myself to vacate the area."

Light nodded, still trembling from the adrenaline. "Right. Let's get out of here."

Rester slammed his foot down, and they were off.

* * *

Matt was very busy being bored to death when they heard Light and Rester's footsteps coming down the corridor.

L got up in a hurry, looking as anxious as one could look without betraying any emotion. Mello looked slightly startled as well, and when Matt asked him why, he replied, "The only reason Light should be back so soon is if something went wrong."

Matt's stomach suddenly popped out of existence.

Then Light entered the room, looking completely fine, if a bit shaken, and was immediately accosted by L.

"What happened?" the psychologist demanded, eyes raking over Light as if to make certain there was no damage.

Light hesitated, looked at the three curious faces on the other side of the room, and explained. "I was just outside the safehouse when someone accosted me –"

"Did they hurt you?" Matt interrupted, earning a disparaging glance from Light, an annoyed glance from L and a disbelieving glance from Mello. Near didn't react at all.

"Yes, Matt, he's very hurt, can't you see the blood?" Mello answered sarcastically, making Matt blush slightly. He adjusted his goggles and fell silent.

Light continued as if nothing had happened, though he did smile slightly at Matt's humiliation. "Anyway, I was accosted, but managed to convince them I was a harmless tourist who had become lost –"

This time it was Mello who interrupted. "The fuck? You idiot. What would a tourist be doing there, of all the godforsaken places on earth?"

Light looked slightly bashful. "She seemed curious about that as well," he admitted.

"She?"

"Oh, come on, Mello," Matt interjected, determined to get Mello back. "Surely you worked in Palm long enough to abandon your sexist prejudices."

Mello glowered at him.

"Anyway," Light continued, "she eventually got suspicious enough that I felt it wise to run, and that's it."

L raised an eyebrow. "She didn't try to shoot you?"

"Well," Light amended, "she didn't hit me."

"Evidently." L was obviously displeased by the idea that Light had been close to getting shot, but chose to let it go.

"Hey, at least they'll recognise you when you go back," Matt offered, looking on the bright side for once.

"That's true." Light didn't look very enthusiastic. "When will I be going back, again?"

"Tomorrow," Near told him.

"So soon?!" Matt and Light exclaimed.

Near shrugged. "Best to strike while the iron is hot. And the sooner we gather evidence, the less children will be kidnapped."

Matt realised what Near said was correct, but that didn't stop him from thinking the boy was insane.

"What if they shoot Light on sight?" Mello asked nonchalantly.

Matt gaped at him.

The blond looked unapologetic. "What? What if he gets shot?"

"They will not shoot Light-kun," L said decisively, as if his belief alone could make it true. "They will be curious as to why he was scouting out the safehouse, and how he knew where it was. As long as he refuses to answer their questions, he will be kept alive until we can rescue him."

Mello raised an eyebrow. "But he'll be tortured."

"Yeah, that's not fun," Matt said, remembering his own experience at the hands of Palm, many suburbs away.

Light was steadily looking more and more panicky. Noticing, Matt quickly said, "But if we get there fast enough, there won't be enough time for them to do anything."

Mello shook his head. "They'll question him before they take him to the rest of the kids. There's no avoiding it: Light's gonna be roughed up."

No one looked happy about this, L least of all.

Finally, Light piped up, his voice determined. "If it will end the case, I will do what needs to be done."

No one argued with him because, though they didn't like this one much, they didn't exactly have another option.

"Then I suppose we shall retire early," L said, his voice subdued. "You need to keep your strength up."

They all pretended not to notice Light taking L's hand in his own a split second before the door slid shut.

After a brief moment of silence, Mello stood up. "Well, I guess we'd better hit the sack too. Even if it is eight pm."

He grabbed Matt by the elbow and dragged him out of the room, flinging a "see you, Sheep" over his shoulder.

Mello half-shoved Matt all the way to their bedroom (Matt's former room was now just a replacement Tech Lair) and shut the door, not exactly quietly, but pretty gently, considering it was Mello.

He kissed Matt gently too, for once not trying to consume Matt's soul through his mouth. For a few moments, Matt was blissfully unaware of everything except his suddenly useless legs and Mello's uncharacteristically tender hands and mouth.

When they drew apart, Mello brought his hands up to Matt's cheek, stroking the skin there for a second before giving him one last, quick peck.

"What's all this for?" Matt asked, though he was almost too blissed-out to care. Almost.

Mello was obviously contemplating lying to him, but gave up when Matt gave him a stern look. He sighed, and slid Matt's goggles down his face, revealing concerned green orbs behind them.

"I might lose you tomorrow," he admitted quietly, his voice at half its normal strength.

Matt blinked. "What?"

"The infiltration. I could lose you."

Matt was nonplussed. "Nah, I'm staying here to track Light and tell you where he is, remember?"

Mello levelled a look at him. "Matty," he said in a warning tone, "your stupidity is ruining the mood..."

"But you're being daft! I'm not gonna get killed!" Matt assured him.

"I might."

Matt's voicebox stopped working, along with his heart, lungs and brain. He'd known about the risk, of course, but to have it said aloud like that...

"We don't know how many people there are in that safehouse; the only thing we do know is that it'll be a lot. Even with the police, the chance of no injuries is low at best, and non-existent at worst. I believe in the afterlife, and Hell's gonna be pretty shit anyway. I don't want to be apart from you on top of all that."

Matt stared at him, agony burning in his eyes. "Mello..." he whispered. "Why do you always have to be so pessimistic? You're scaring me."

"How?"

"I don't want you to die." Matt's throat constricted at the thought, and he vaguely wondered whether he was going to have an asthma attack.

Mello hugged him tightly, not helping Matt's breathing, but Matt relaxed slightly anyway. "I promise I'll try my hardest not to die. It's not even that likely, but it is possible, and I just wanted..."

Matt looked up at him. "What did you want?"

Mello stroked his neck, pushing Matt's neckline down slightly to trace his collarbone. "I wanted to tell you something," he said.

Matt couldn't breathe again. "Tell me what?"

Mello groaned, so softly Matt thought he'd imagined it. The blond buried his face in Matt's hair, inhaling deeply. "I think..."

Matt waited in silence, the anticipation killing him.

Suddenly, Mello pulled back. "I can't," he said simply.

Matt stared at him in disbelief while his heart was trampled on.

"I'll tell you when I get back," Mello reassured him, "I promise."

"But –" Matt could bring himself to say 'but what if you don't?'.

"I will come back to you, Matty, eventually. Even if I die. I swear to you, I'll come back and tell you."

Matt shook his head, certain that if he tried to speak, he'd cry instead. Why did Mello even have to bring up this topic in the first place?

"Matt..." Mello was leaning in again, his eyes at half-mast.

Matt leaned away, holding Mello back by his shoulders.

Mello looked hurt. "Matt?"

"I'm sorry," Matt choked out. "I just – I don't want you to die. Ever. I'd rather die for you."

Mello's gaze hardened immediately. "Don't you fucking dare."

"But I would! Mello, if you die, I'm dying too!" Matt declared hysterically.

"Don't you _dare_!" Mello screamed, panic obvious on his scarred face. "I'll hate you! Don't you dare!"

Matt shook his head again, the tears flowing freely down his face. "No. If you don't want me to die, don't you die either. That's it. Simple." And he broke down into sobs.

Mello gathered him up close, holding him and rocking him like he was a four-year-old girl. "Fine, then. I won't die. But Matty, seriously, never, _ever_ do that. I'm serious, I'd hate you forever."

"Liar," Matt choked.

Mello didn't correct him. "Why the hell would you even do something like that, anyway? I thought I was supposed to be the melodramatic one."

Matt smiled waterily. "Hadn't you guessed? I love you."

He felt Mello stop breathing for a second, before the blond chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, real Juliet, aren't you?"

Matt didn't answer, and they stayed there for the next very long period of time. In the end, they didn't go to bed until midnight, and Matt didn't get to sleep until two.

Mello didn't sleep at all.


	19. Deception

Light would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't nervous as he stood just inside the threshold of the SPK headquarters. He was due to return to the Palm safehouse very shortly, and this time, he would be driving alone. Light was just thankful the English drove on the left side of the road as well. L had gotten him a slightly illegal licence early on in their (then non-existent) relationship, and Light had never imagined he'd have to use it before he left the psychologist's custody, let alone for something like this.

He was dressed in inconspicuous, drab clothes that made him itch for a crisp shirt, but he ignored it in favour of worrying about other matters. For example, his pending imprisonment and most likely torture.

Trying to calm himself (and failing, which did not bode well for his recently-ingested tracking device), Light turned to L, who was standing in front of him, looking for all the world as if he wasn't concerned about Light at all. The man always had been an excellent actor.

"What is it, Light-kun?" L asked upon noticing Light's gaze, which was trained intently on the psychologist's face.

Light hesitated, then sighed. "Nothing," he muttered.

L looked mildly curious, but didn't protest when Light refused to elaborate.

Matt hurried into the lobby then, closely followed by Mello, who was looking rather more tired than he should have been, considering he was going to be invading an extremely well-guarded gang prison that night.

"Light!" the redhead called, hastening over to them, "I thought you'd left!"

Light shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I'd rather not leave at all, if I'm completely honest with myself."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Don't give us that," he said scathingly, but not overly-harshly, "You're the one that came up with the idea in the first place."

"That's true." Light smiled at the blond, who didn't return it, but didn't full-out glare either. It seemed progress had been made.

Matt pulled Light into a firm hug, surprising the brunet, but not in an unpleasant way. He returned the embrace whole-heartedly, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for Matt's patience and understanding during his turbulent period.

They broke apart after a few seconds, and Mello immediately moved in to stand slightly in front of Matt. His eyes practically shouted ' _mine!_ '. Light chuckled slightly, amused by Mello's over-protectiveness and thankful that Matt had finally found someone to be happy with.

L embraced him then, again shocking Light, but lessening the load on the youth's heart. They hugged for quite a while, neither particularly willing to let go, and while Matt and Mello didn't appear to be especially surprised, they did snicker loudly, making Light's face heat up with embarrassment.

Eventually, L let him go, and with a whispered ' _Be safe, Light-kun,'_ Light was out the door and alone in the cold winter air.

* * *

Light's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, and it took quite an effort to pry his hands open. He had arrived at the double-yellow-lined parking spot he and Rester had used the day before, but was much too terrified to even think about getting out.

For the umpteenth time, he wondered exactly what had made him suggest this mission in the first place. True, it was pretty much their only choice, and true, he had been sick of being an optional extra, but seriously...

Light shook his head. It was silly to argue with himself in this way. He had decided to do this, and he would do it. He even still _wanted_ to do it, despite being completely petrified. He had to do all he could to help those children who'd had their childhood brutally ripped away from them, much like his own had been.

Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, Light got out of the car.

He remembered the way to the old warehouse without a problem, though his footsteps were slow and hesitant as he gradually drew closer and closer. Inevitably, the foreboding building appeared as he turned the corner, and Light had to don his metaphorical mask again. Looking like a scared kid would be more hindrance than help in this instance.

Reaching the building, he kept an eye out for the watchman that was bound to be on duty tonight. Sure enough, his way was soon blocked by a surprisingly short person carrying a pistol and what looked horribly like a sheathed machete. Light gulped.

The man was stocky, and smelt strongly of garlic. "What's yer business 'ere?" he demanded testily, nearly knocking Light out with the pungent stench of his breath.

"Uh..." Light started, not completely sure whether to stick with his story from the night before.

Luckily, or possibly not, the man saved him from this dilemma. "Wait a sec. Asian, brown hair, thick...yer that kid Dee caught wanderin' around last night, ain't ya?"

Concealing his annoyance at being called stupid, Light adopted his best deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. He froze for the perfect amount of time before wheeling around and making a break for it.

He got about two metres away before he was hit very hard in the head with what felt horribly like the sheathed machete. He slammed into the ground, winded and stunned, and was promptly kicked in the stomach by the stocky man.

"Oi!" his assailant yelled, "I've got that kid from before!"

Light was vaguely aware of being hauled off his feet and dragged inside by at least three burly men that seemed completely unnecessary, taking into account Light's state.

They came to a halt and the world span for a bit before Light crumpled to his knees. If this was what a concussion felt like, he wasn't enjoying it.

"This the kid, Dee?" a voice asked.

The face of the woman from the night before suddenly loomed into view, inches from his own. Light tried not to flinch away from the strong reek of tobacco.

"Yep, this's the fucker. Had some kind of bodyguard last night, armed an' all. You'd better check it out, see if he ain't there again."

"Who says you give orders 'round here?" Light recognised the voice of the stocky man and noted with relief that his brain seemed to be coming back into function.

"No one, Mick, but you might wanna follow 'em anyway. Or do you wanna be responsible for us being raided by some group of dickheads after this kid?"

Grumbling, Mick shuffled off.

"Right, then." The woman called Dee grabbed a handful of Light's hair and jerked his head back to face her. "Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here? And don't even try giving me that bull from yesterday; you ain't no fucking tourist."

Light didn't bother to say anything, and committed himself to becoming the most infuriatingly uncooperative torture victim the underworld had ever seen.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "We have some people here that can speak Chinese, y'know. Or Japanese, Korean, whatever." Evidently she couldn't tell the difference between Asian nationalities. _Ignorant bitch_ , Light thought uncharitably.

"I speak English," he said aloud, keeping his voice aloof and disguising his accent as much as possible, so as to be as irritating as possible.

"Why am I not surprised?" Dee growled, looking irate. Evidently his holier-than-thou persona rubbed her up in exactly the wrong.

Light had to suppress a smirk. Being killed now would not be helpful.

"Well, seeing as you don't 'ave an excuse not to answer now, let's ask again, shall we? What're you doing here?" she demanded, grasping his collar.

"That's confidential," Light informed her, earning himself a stinging slap across the face.

"Try that again and you'll get much worse," the woman hissed, her hand ready to hit him again. "But fine, we'll leave that 'til later. Who are you?"

"Inoue Kyosuke," Light lied easily, using common names that would be almost impossible to trace, especially if certain ignorant Westerners assumed the family name always came last.

"Right." Light had to admit he may have misjudged the woman slightly; she seemed intelligent enough to suspect he was lying. "So who do you work for?"

"No one." Not exactly a lie, but delivered in a way that made it seem completely false.

Another slap, this time on the other cheek.

"Who do you work for?" she asked again, more threateningly.

"Nobody," he repeated, and this time he got a fully-fledged punch in the mouth.

Spitting blood, he heard one of the men behind him say, "Careful, Dee, we're gonna want this one to be able to talk."

"Maybe it'd be best to hand him over to Damiano," another suggested. "He's better at getting people to spill."

Dee shot a disparaging look over Light's shoulder, presumably at the owner of the second voice. "Sure, and 'ave him a gibbering wreck by the end of the hour – that's really what we want. Nah, we'll wait for a bit; maybe he'll crack over time. How's a few weeks without food sound, huh, Chink?" The last sentence was directed at Light, who didn't bother to tell her he wasn't Chinese.

During his silence, Dee seemed to make up her mind. "Right, well that settles it, then. Chuck him in with the rest of the brats, but don't give him any of the Big O. We want him conscious for this." Her voice was gleefully sadistic, and despite himself, a shiver ran down Light's spine.

This seemed to please the woman, as she grinned evilly and hauled him to his feet with alarming strength. She shoved him roughly over to one of the men, who caught him before he hit the ground.

"Drive him to the clink. And remember to do it as violently as possible," she said.

The man holding him snickered unpleasantly. Light didn't like the sound of it, but was glad he was getting out of Dee's clutches so quickly, and relatively uninjured.

The guy effectively kicked Light out of the building, a couple of times pushing him so impatiently Light feel to the ground. He felt his ankle twist and winced.

When they reached the back of the safehouse, Light caught a brief glimpse of a nondescript car with tinted windows before a blindfold was tied painfully tightly over his eyes.

"Don't even think of takin' it off, else I'll cuff you as well," the man warned, opening the car door and shoving Light inside. The youth heard his footsteps walking around the car to the driver's door, through which he got into the seat next to Light.

The drive was silent, and though Light tried to keep track of how many lefts and rights they were taking, he soon got so confused he gave up. He detested being blindfolded, but the threat of being handcuffed as well kept him from trying to untie the black cloth.

Eventually, they stopped, and the man got out of the car, promptly hauling Light out as well. He was lead quickly, limping, through a series of corridors, and then the blindfold was off and Light could see everything in front of him.

He was in a room packed full of children. Except they were really more shells than humans; their eyes were blank, and some of them rocked slowly on their haunches, while others sat so still Light couldn't be sure whether they were alive or not. None of them looked at Light as he was shoved through the entrance.

The man, who Light realised was carrying a bag he hadn't noticed before, followed him in. He then impatiently ripped Light's jacket and T-shirt off, then his trainers, socks and trousers, paying no heed to Light's attempts to stop him. He chucked a filthy pair of what looked like pyjamas at his head, told him to 'get dressed if he knew what was good him', and left, slamming the door behind him.

Light pulled the hideous-smelling garments on gingerly, then turned to the child nearest to him: a girl of about fifteen.

"Hello?"

No answer. She didn't even react.

He tapped her shoulder lightly. Nothing.

Desperate, Light pushed her harder, and she toppled over onto her side. Light felt bad for a second before he realised she had finally seemed to notice his presence.

"Can you understand me?" he asked, speaking clearly.

She did not answer, only sitting up again and beginning to rock back and forth. It put Light on edge. He gave up and tried another child, this one appearing slightly older.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

He tried child after child, but drew a reaction out of none of them. Eventually he gave up, resisting the urge to vomit at what had been done to these children. He curled up in a corner, facing the wall so as not to have to look at the horrifically blank faces of his cellmates.

He wished the rescue team would hurry the hell up.


	20. Liberation

Matt was sitting beside Near on the sofa in the tracking room, staring at the blip on the screen that was Light and trying not to feel too awkward.

They had been sitting in silence for the past half hour, and Matt was ready to scream. It wasn't that he hated Near's company, as such, just that Near wasn't very good company. At all.

Light seemed to be in transit, on the road and moving at a speed that suggested he was in a car. Matt just hoped he wasn't either unconscious or dead.

Mello and L (the latter of whom had suddenly decided he wanted to be part of the rescue team) were in the investigation room with at least twenty policemen and women who had been hand-picked by L and Near for the mission. Mello hadn't looked nervous at all when Matt had last seen him, just very serious and determined, but Matt was terrified enough for both of them.

 _What if there are hundreds of people guarding this place?_ he fretted. _What if they decide to detonate the building? Mello won't survive another explosion! What if the police decide that Mello's actions now aren't enough to excuse him from what he did while he was part of Palm? What if they arrest him? What if they decide to bring back capital punishment just for him? What if –_

"I do believe Matt is working himself into a frenzy for no reason." Near helpfully interrupted his train of thought.

Matt blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks." He forced himself to breathe.

"Mello and L will be fine," Near continued, "They have an escort of policemen that are very able and ready, and they are key witnesses to this investigation. If anyone gets hurt, it will not be them."

Near's logic made sense, but Matt's brain usually didn't, so the logic didn't help much.

"In addition, in all the time I have known Mello, he has never failed at anything he wanted to do. Even in surpassing me, he has succeeded, though he has not realised it."

This surprised Matt. "What do you mean?" he asked the strange boy.

Near sighed quietly. "Mello seems to be under the impression that in order to become superior to me, he needs to become more intelligent, but he is wrong. I am inferior to Mello in many ways, and I am afraid I will most likely never catch up to him."

Matt blinked. "But surely if you told him that, he'd stop hating you so much, right? I mean, the only reason he does is because he sees you as a rival, so..."

"That is true," Near agreed, "But Mello would not believe me if I told him such a thing. He would merely think I was taunting him. I do not dislike Mello, and would appreciate it if he were to stop with his dislike of me, but I cannot be part of his life in that way. My purpose in Mello's life is to be the unattainable goal, the challenge that keeps him going, even when he is unable to move." Near looked slightly saddened by this, and Matt felt sympathy for the boy wash over him.

"You really want to be his friend, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Near nodded. "But he does not need me. He has Matt." At this, he looked Matt straight in the eye for the first time in Matt didn't know how long. "And if Matt leaves Mello, I can assure you he will have me to deal with."

Matt was shocked into silence for a few seconds, but soon came to his senses and grinned. Making to hug Near, but thinking better of it, he patted the boy's shoulder instead. "You don't need to worry, Near. I wouldn't abandon Mello if someone threatened me at gunpoint. But seriously, try asking him to be your friend. You might be surprised."

Near shook his head. "In this case alone, I think I know more about Mello than Matt does."

Matt thought he was probably right; he had never been on the receiving end of Mello's unconditional hatred before.

"I don't think Mello actually hates you that much, though – he helped you out with this case, right? And –"

"Light seems to have arrived at his destination," Near interrupted, drawing Matt's attention back to the screen, upon which the blip indeed appeared to have come to a halt. "We shall inform the raiders."

Sighing heavily and cursing Near's stubbornness, Matt followed him out of the room.

* * *

 _Well, I guess this is it,_ Mello thought as he strapped on his gun holster. Around him, police officials were doing the same, while L (who refused to carry a gun) slipped a weighty cosh into his bottomless pocket.

Matt was leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, his googles concealing his anxiety, but nevertheless, Mello could feel it coming off him in waves. When Matt bit his lip in the way he did only when holding back tears, Mello gave up and walked over to the redhead.

"Look, I'm gonna be fine, okay?" he reassured his friend, "The police've already said they'll have me covered at all times, so I won't be accidentally shot in the head and unable to testify."

Matt didn't say anything.

Sighing, Mello tilted Matt's head up with a finger under his chin and gave him a quick, tender peck on the lips, ignoring the odd looks they were getting from some of the policemen (and women). "Please stop looking like that, it's making me want to just stay here and make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"Please do," Matt whispered, his voice sounding broken.

Mello felt a pain in his chest at how sad Matt looked. "Matty..."

"Mello, we must go!" L was calling him.

Mello turned half away, then back to the redhead. "Come on, Matt, I'll be alright! Just concentrate on giving us directions to the place and we'll be fine, okay?"

No answer.

Harried and desperate, Mello whispered, "Remember, Matt: when I come back, I need to tell you something. Promise me you'll wait patiently until then?"

Matt looked up and smiled waterily. "Just as long as you aren't thinking of breaking up with me," he said with fake cheer.

Mello froze.

"Mello! We must leave now!"

"Guess I'll see you, then," Mello muttered, turning away from Matt and making his way to the impatient crowd.

The piled into the trucks and drove off.

* * *

" _SPK to Infiltration Team 1, this is Near. I will be guiding this group to the place where the children are being held captive."_ Near's voice sounded through the group's earpieces.

Mello sighed as he realised it wasn't Matt telling them where to go. He'd be guiding the second group around the back.

" _Please follow the road for the next two kilometres, then turn left,_ "said Near, sounding remarkably like a Sat Nav.

Such were their instructions for the next half hour, until they reached the end of the road on which the prison was situated. Then, Mello and his fellow raiders got out of the truck and briefly reviewed their tactics that had been discussed beforehand.

They were to burst in through the front entrance, announcing their arrival very loudly with lots of gunfire, and draw attention away from the back door, where L and the rest of the police team would sneak in, find Light and hopefully the rest of the kids and arrest anyone they could find, unless they tried to attack them, in which case they would shoot to kill.

It was by no means a complicated plan, but as L had said that evening, there really wasn't any need for complex manoeuvres. All they needed was solid evidence that the children were being held by Four-Field, and then any extra information obtained through interrogation would serve to ensure the two offending companies would be brought to justice.

Mello's train of thought was interrupted by Near's voice through his earpiece. " _The other team are in position. Infiltration Team 1 may proceed. Good luck._ "

Mello took a deep breath, and straightened to his full (though not very impressive) height. "All right, guys," he said, "Let's go."

They crept down the street, guns ready. When they reached the address they had been told was the holding prison, they grouped around the door and hesitated a moment. At a nod from Mello, the police constable shot the lock, kicked the door down, and they all rushed in.

"Attention!" called the constable, "This is the police! Surrender quietly and no one needs to get hurt!"

There was silence for a moment.

Something shifted in the corner of Mello's eye, and he only just had time to yell, "Take cover!" before they were showered with machine-gun fire.

Everyone dived behind whatever shelter they could find: boxes, shelves, walls. Mello threw himself behind a wooden crate, on top of some poor man who hadn't managed to get out of the way quite in time and had sustained a bullet to the leg. Mello used his knife to quickly cut away the man's trouser leg below the knee and shoved the bloodstained cloth at him.

"Bind it quickly," he hissed, "And shoot whoever you can from where you sit."

The man nodded bravely.

There came a lull in the fire, which Mello took advantage off, sneaking along the ground to a better vantage point. From there, he located the barrel of a machine gun poking out of a shadowed corridor, and took aim at where he supposed the man's head would have been.

He missed his mark, but must have hit something, as the gunman let out a shout, dropping his weapon and leaving himself defenceless.

The police were out in seconds, firing all out and scanning the room for other threats. They were saved the trouble, as at that point, the rest of the gang members emerged, shouting and swearing, with guns, knives and heavy objects galore. Some were shot down before they could do much damage, but others managed to land hits on the police, and Mello watched with despair as more than a few of his allies were put out of action, some permanently.

He loaded, aimed and shot again and again, as fast as he could, but it was with inevitability that someone soon yelled, "Hey! Isn't that Mello?!"

Suddenly, everyone was trying to kill him, with shouts of "traitor!" and "son of a bitch!" and other such insults. Mello legged it down a corridor, and systematically gunned down those who followed him, as they had to do so in single file due to the lack of space.

Eventually, they seemed to taper out, until Mello was alone, listening to the sounds of fighting ensuing from the large space he had just left.

He was just about to return and help his team-mates when he heard a sound from behind him. Turning immediately, Mello just managed to catch the iron bar before it made contact with his skull, though he had to drop his pistol. Inches away from him was the huge man he had shot in the knee when he had rescued Matt from his former base so long ago.

"I knew I should have finished you off while I had the chance," the blond hissed, struggling with the brute strength of the man as he tried to push him back.

The man leered evilly, and raised the bar again, bringing it down hard. Mello dodged in the nick of time, ducking under the giant's arm and barrelling into his legs. He managed to make the man stumble slightly, and used the opportunity to viciously kick the very knee he had shot those many weeks ago.

He was rewarded with an enormous bellow, but had little time to rejoice in his victory, as the toppling man used the momentum of his fall to slam his weapon into the back of Mello's head. The blond staggered, then fell to his knees while the world began to disappear into black spots.

He was vaguely aware of the titan heaving himself to his feet and lifting his weapon yet again to deliver the final blow, before a loud gunshot cracked through the air. The man dropped his weapon and keeled over, narrowly missing crushing Mello on his way down.

With herculean effort, Mello turned his head to see his saviour and found it was the policeman who had been shot in the leg. He was balancing on one foot and leaning against the wall, looking extremely proud of himself.

"I saw you go in here, and when you didn't come back out, I thought something had gone wrong. Looks like I was right!" he announced cheerfully.

Mello managed half a snort before he collapsed and the world went completely black.

* * *

Meanwhile, L and his troupe were creeping through the corridors, trying to be as quiet as seven full-grown, heavily-armed adults could be.

Matt was guiding them to the room where the children were supposedly being held. " _Okay, it's the second left, and then the door at the end of the corridor._ "

L nodded, knowing Matt could see him through the surveillance cameras on the walls, and followed the instructions. Reaching the door, he paused for a second, and looked behind him at the police officers.

"I warn you, this will probably not be a pleasant sight," he said, before opening the doors.

He had been right. It wasn't a pleasant sight at all. There were at least twenty children in the room, and though L recognised some of them from photographs they had used during the investigation, it was just barely.

The children were very thin, and seemed to have had their brains wiped, leaving them empty, emotionless shells. There was barely any sound in the room, though some eyes did glance at them as they entered.

A woman gasped. "How much opium have they given these kids?!"

L frowned solemnly. "I do not know exactly, but I am certain that it will take a huge amount of rehabilitation to return the children to normal, if it is even possible to do so."

Then, a figure in the corner stood up. "L!" it called, relieved.

L smiled with relief. "Light-kun." The youth seemed to be alright; a few bruises and cuts on his face, and his clothes were filthy, but all-in-all in very good health for his predicament.

"Huh?" said a policeman. "How come you're not drugged?"

"This is Yagami Light, Aizawa-san. He is a member of our investigation team, as I have already informed you, and is lucid because..." L trailed off when he remembered he didn't quite know the answer. It appeared Light's good health had affected him more than he'd previously thought.

"They wanted me to be conscious during my...stay," Light explained, "because they wished for me to give them information as to who sent me here and the like. I believe they were going to let me go without food for a while."

Aizawa-san nodded, appeased. "Good to see you're alright, kid," he said gruffly. "Let's go help the other team now."

Light looked confused. "Other team?"

L nodded. "Yes, Light-kun. Mello is leading a second group of officers who are currently drawing the attention of the gang members away from us. I believe they would be grateful of some backup."

Light nodded, and made to leave.

L blocked his path. "My apologies, Light-kun, but you are in no state to fight. Despite everything else, you have not had any training."

"You are _not_ leaving me here while you go risk your life," Light hissed, looking dangerous.

L smiled slightly. "No, I am not. I and some other officers will be staying here to guard the children while the rest make any arrests necessary."

Light didn't look happy, but grudgingly accepted the compromise. "Fine," he muttered, "Maybe you'll be able to get a reaction out of these kids. They're starting to creep me out."

"Indeed," L indulged him, though he knew trying to coax a response out of the children before the effects of the opium had lessened somewhat was hopeless.

"Well, we'll be off, then," Aizawa announced, making for the door. "We'll call ambulances for the children and injured when we're done."

"Very well," L said, and they left, leaving only a couple of policemen standing by the entryway.

L shut the door quietly behind them and sat on the floor with his back against it. "Well, to pass the time, perhaps you'd like to tell us your tale, Light-kun?"

* * *

Matt received the news that the raid had gone successfully from Near, who seemed almost as immensely relieved as he himself was, in his own way.

However, when L and Light arrived back without Mello, Matt suddenly felt as if he was going to be violently ill.

Noticing his green-tinted face, L quickly said, "There were a few fatalities on our side, which is regrettable, but Mello was not one of them. He merely sustained a blow to the head, and has been taken to hospital to be on the safe side."

Matt wasn't very relieved, "But Mello hates hospitals!"

"I think he can deal with it, don't you?" Light teased, sitting down next to the redhead. He looked dirty, tired and bruised, but altogether fairly okay.

"I want to see him!" Matt demanded, jumping up.

Light rolled his eyes. "Hello to you too. Don't worry, that's why we came back here, or else we'd have gone straight to the police station with the rest of the group. We took around fifteen prisoners, and they're being questioned right now, I'd guess, so we should get the results fairly soon. We don't need much extra information apart from why Palm and Four-Field were working together in the first place."

"And why they did this," Matt reminded him, much happier now he was going to see Mello. "Come on, let's go!"

Shaking their heads at his impatience, L and Light followed him out of the room. Suddenly halting at the doorway, Matt turned around.

"Hey, Near!" he called to the boy sitting by himself in the middle of the room, "You coming?"

Near looked mildly surprised. Before he could answer, however, Matt insisted, "Come on, you have to! I bet he'll want to see you!" That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it seemed to have worked, as Near got up and followed them outside.

The drive to the hospital was quite short, but nevertheless full of information, both about the rescue and Light's capture.

"What were the assholes' names again?" Matt asked Light about his captors, "We'll want to lock them up too, for assault and association."

Light thought for a bit, then replied, "The woman was called Dee, and the guard was...Mike. No, Mick. They mentioned another name – supposedly their in-house torturer – but I can't remember it. It was Italian. Something like Damien?"

Matt shrugged. "Well, most of Palm's gonna be arrested anyway. I guess it doesn't really matter."

When they reached the hospital, they found with relief that there wasn't a shortage of open parking spots, seeing as it was two in the morning. They parked quickly, then hurried inside.

Matt reached the reception desk first, but before he could say anything, the sleepy-looking receptionist said, "Let me guess: more people from the police raid. What's the nature of your injury?"

Matt shook his head impatiently. "No, we're here for a visit."

The lady looked surprised. "Now?"

"Yes. Now."

"Who to?"

"Mello, Room 53," L told her.

She hesitated for a second. "Well...visiting hours are kinda over..."

Matt glared at her.

"Fine," she sighed, "Are you family?"

Matt debated over lying, but then realised there was no way an albino, a ginger, an insomniac and a Japanese person were all going to be related to one blond Englishman.

"Uh...not exactly," he hedged, hoping the woman would let them through anyway. She seemed nice enough, but it was really very late.

Thankfully, she chuckled softly, and handed them a map of the hospital. "Didn't think so. Oh well, just don't tell them it was me who let you through, okay?"

"Thank you," Matt said sincerely, already halfway across the waiting room.

"If anyone reprimands you for admitting us, inform them L told you to do so," L advised solomnly, before he and Light followed after Matt, Near trailing after them.

They reached the room with minimum confusion, and Matt wasted no time knocking. He opened the door and ran in, searching frantically for Mello.

There were two beds in the room, one of which had the curtains drawn around it, and the other containing a cheery-looking young man with dark hair. "Hey," he greeted them, "I'm Matsuda. I was with Mello when he got smacked in the head, so I got to share a room with him too. He's sleeping right now, but –"

"No I'm not," came a groggy, familiar voice from behind the curtain.

"Mello!" Matt called, rushing to the bed and pulling back the screen.

The blond was grinning up at him, looking mildly dazed, but not too bad. "Yo, Matty," he said.

Matt just hugged him so tightly the blond had to push him away slightly to avoid being suffocated. "Hey, hey, careful there!" he laughed, "I'm an invalid, remember?" He still held Matt close to him for a very long moment, though.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked when they eventually broke apart.

Mello rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, it's just a concussion. I should be out by tomorrow, and if not, the next day. They said it wasn't so bad."

Matt finally drew an unhindered breath, sinking down onto the chair by Mello's bedside.

"I still hate it here, though," Mello complained, looking sulky.

"Just be patient, Mello," L said, looking amused (if slightly exasperated).

"Easy for you to say. I don't see you bedridden."

"Well, you shouldn't have got hit in the head, then, should you?" Matt retorted for L's sake. "What if it had been a bullet?"

"Don't be daft, like that'd happen. He didn't even have a gun," Mello snorted.

His gaze fixed upon Light, who was standing next to L, quiet but smiling. "I see you got out alright," Mello commented.

Light nodded. "Thank you for coming to my aid." He bowed.

Mello rolled his eyes, but look pleased. "No problem. I didn't do such a great job, though, obviously."

"What do you mean?!" Matsuda chipped in, "You were amazing! Even when all those people went after you, you were calm and tactical! We would have all been much worse off if you hadn't been there!"

Mello shot him a look. "You shut up." Turning to the others, he explained, "He's been bugging me with stuff like that the whole time I've been here! I didn't even do that much for him, I just told him to bandage up his leg. He's the one that saved my life."

Matsuda blushed and looked very pleased. "Hardly," he mumbled bashfully.

Mello's eyes drifted over to Near, who until this point had stood at the foot of the bed, observing the proceedings silently.

"Why're you here?" the blond asked suspiciously.

"Mello!" Matt slapped his arm lightly. "Don't be rude! Near was worried about you!"

"Was he now?" Mello didn't appear convinced. "Well, whatever. Anyway, what're you doing all the way over there? Come stand with everyone else, it's hurting my head to try and look at you."

Near blinked, and obliged.

"Thanks for talking us through the journey, by the way," Mello added gruffly.

Near shifted his feet, looking both awkward and pleased, which was an amazing feat for him. "It was no problem, Mello."

They all talked until the Sun came up, by which time Mello had fallen asleep again, and Matt was stroking his hair gently, smiling contentedly.

* * *

The next day (or later during that day), as promised, Mello was discharged from the hospital, with strict instructions to take it easy and to lie down if he ever felt a headache coming on.

All in all, they concluded, he was very lucky.

By the time they returned to the SPK headquarters, Commander Rester was waiting for them with the results of the police questioning.

"We have a list of people directly involved in this crime," he informed them, "as well as the names of the Palm administrators, and a confession as to the reason Four-Field and Palm organised this."

Near nodded, and took the papers from his employee. He scanned through them quickly, and his eyes widened slightly.

"This is interesting," he commented, handing it to the rest of them.

They all looked it over. There was a long list of names, both members of Palm and employees of Four-Field, and right at the bottom were the names of the bosses of Palm.

"Well, who would have thought it?" Matt wondered aloud, "Takada Kiyomi and Mikami Teru. I guess that's a pretty good explanation as to why the companies were working together. They had the same bosses all along!"

"Yes, very clever," L mused, "Even I did not fully consider this possibility."

Light was still impatient, however. "Why did they do it, though? Why would they even need to, if they had all the influence of Palm and Four-Field together?"

L flipped through the pages. "It appears Palm was actually getting into some difficulty. Too many of its member had been arrested before the case, and their funds were dwindling. Obviously, Four-Field couldn't help too much, as they would be discovered, but if they did something like this, it would cause the children to become dependant upon opium, and they would buy it from Palm, expanding their influence and giving them more profit."

Light wrinkled his nose. "Despicable. How far will humans go for money?"

"Wait, something's not making sense yet," Mello cut in. "If Palm and Four-Field have the same bosses, why did Four-Field _buy_ the opium from Palm? Surely that's pointless."

"It would appear so at first," L agreed, "But it seems we are the only people that know Four-Field and Palm are run by the same individuals. Even the members of the groups themselves were unaware; they merely gave us the names of their own bosses. It is likely only the superiors of the company knew about this, and as such, they had to keep up appearances."

"Right," Matt said, seeing it made sense, "So do we go arrest the people now?"

L shook his head. "I think we can leave that to the police," he said, "They are probably arresting Takada and Mikami as we speak."

Matt didn't bother to pretend not to be relieved. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep for a year.

Luckily, L seemed to pick up on his thought waves. "I think we should all get some rest. We have worked hard, and it has finally paid off. Congratulations, everyone, though it is not quite over yet. We still have yet to see through the formalities, though I am sure the offending parties cannot bribe their ways out now. We will regroup tomorrow, at two pm." With that, L and Light left the room.

Matt and Mello followed them a little later, after scanning through the papers a while longer. As the left the room, Matt turned and said to Near, "You get some sleep too, okay? No working down here for ages."

"I can assure Matt that I will be unconscious within the hour," Near told him, a trace of humour in his voice.

Matt grinned and waved, before the door slid shut behind him.

In their room a minute later, Matt and Mello were pulling on their sleeping clothes, Mello carefully avoiding touching his head too much and Matt just trying not to fall over with exhaustion. Eventually, they tumbled into bed and curled up together, elated to finally be able to sleep without the stress of the Jouka Case hanging over their heads.

Matt was about to drop off when he remembered something. "Hey, Mello?" he whispered, hoping the blond was still awake.

Mello opened his eyes lazily. "What is it?" he muttered.

"What were you going to tell me?"

Mello laughed quietly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that," he admitted, propping himself up on his elbow.

Matt followed suit, and looked the blond in the eye. "So what was it?"

Mello took a deep breath and started, "Okay. First, I want to apologise for making you take part in this whole friends with benefits thing. That was wrong of me, and I feel really guilty for it; I shouldn't have taken advantage of your feelings like that."

Matt snorted. "Oh, please, Mello. Taking advantage of stuff is in your nature, you wouldn't be able to stop if you tried! Anyway, it's not like I care. At all. I love every second I'm with you," he said sincerely, his eyes burning with honesty.

Mello blushed lightly, then cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I don't deserve it, but thank you. But Matty...there's something I need to tell you."

Suddenly Matt was tense again, all traces of sleepiness gone. "What is it?" he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

Mello took a deep breath. "I was wrong about my feelings. I'm sorry, Matt, I should have told you sooner, but –"

Matt suddenly couldn't breathe. He gulped in vain, recognising the horribly familiar sensation of his throat constricting, his lungs shrivelling up.

He needed his inhaler.

No. He needed to curl up and die.

"Matty?" Mello was calling anxiously, "Matty, please breathe! It's not what you think, let me finish!"

Matt was honestly trying to inhale, but he seemed to have forgotten how. His vision started swimming, and the panic of not being able to breathe only served to cause his throat to close further.

"Matty, breathe, please breathe." Mello was rubbing slow circles into his back, a calming, soothing pattern that would have helped more if the touch didn't hurt Matt so much. "In through your nose, out through your mouth, remember?"

Matt went through the familiar exercises, and they were immensely difficult at first, but eventually his ears stopped ringing and he could breathe relatively normally.

"Are you okay?" Mello asked, concerned.

Matt shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

Mello gathered him into his arms and held him, still rubbing his back. "You're jumping to conclusions," he reprimanded without any anger in his voice, "You didn't let me finish my sentence."

"I don't want you to finish your sentence," Matt told him. "When you do, you'll just leave, like everyone else. Like you did before."

"No, I'm not!" Mello's voice was impatient. "Just listen! I was wrong when I told you I couldn't feel love; I just didn't know what it felt like! Matt – you're daft and weird and geeky and just slightly messed-up, but I don't care. I want to stay with you for the rest of forever. I really, really think I love you. A lot. So stop being so pathetic already."

Matt looked up at him, amazed. "You what?"

"I love you," Mello repeated, grinning now.

Matt sighed, going completely limp. "And exactly how long have you not told me this?"

Mello hesitated. "Uh...a few days now. Sorry, but I wanted to be sure. And I didn't want you to distract me from the case. Or for me to distract you."

Matt smirked. "But I can distract you now, right? Seeing as the case is over."

"I thought you were exhausted," Mello teased.

Matt just kissed him, and did so for the next small eternity.

Then, they fell under the covers, completely drained, and passed out. They slept until long past midnight.


	21. Epilogue: Completion and Incompletion

Four weeks after the raid on the Four-Field holding prison, the case came to a close.

Takada Kiyomi and Mikami Teru were sentenced to an extremely long stay in prison, as were their immediate subordinates, under charges of kidnapping, child abuse, illegal drug possession, selling and misuse, fraud, and many other charges that had previously been overlooked.

Four-Field was given new administrators, who were, according to everyone, very trustworthy and moral, and the company would be under strict supervision by the police to avoid any further illegal activity.

The huge majority of the members of Palm were arrested (including Dee and Mick, though Damiano managed to escape back to Italy), and the gang was banned. Mello testified at the trial of Rod Ross, who was additionally charged with armed assault and attempted murder of an anonymous young man.

The victims of the Jouka case were put into intensive rehabilitation, but it was as of yet unclear whether any would fully recover or not. L provided a reliable source of income for the rehabilitation centre, ensuring the children would not be neglected, and occasionally visited with the newly-turned-eighteen-year-old Light, who had decided he wanted to become a psychoanalyst.

Mello and Matt were very happy together, and did not care who knew it. They decided to buy an apartment quite close to the SPK headquarters and live there together until they either got bored or burned it to the ground by putting wrapped chocolate in the microwave; whichever came first.

All in all, the Jouka Case had a happy ending, for most involved.

* * *

Near sat alone in his empty investigation room, slotting blank puzzle pieces into their places. Mello and Matt had left for their new flat two days before, and L and Light had flown back to Japan a week before then.

Near wondered if the room he was sitting in had always been so large.

His hands slowed in their movement until they lay motionless in his lap. Near permitted himself one brief moment of melancholy.

Then, he straightened his back and switched on the computers.

"Halle, Gevanni, Rester."

"Yes, sir?"

"We have work to do."


End file.
